


Stained Glass Variation of the Truth

by at_thezenith, mssr_moony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Nightmares, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Original Universe, Slow Burn, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-01-23 12:37:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_thezenith/pseuds/at_thezenith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssr_moony/pseuds/mssr_moony
Summary: Sometimes Fate works in mysterious ways. After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, Harry gets two of the things he needed most in the past year; recognition that Voldemort is back, and a place he can finally call home, with his godparents who love him as much as he deserved.And so begins the most dangerous chapter of his life, but one that he doesn't have to face alone anymore.For Sirius and Remus, the road to healing and happiness is a long one, and the future looks as bleak as it did sixteen years ago, but this time, it won't end in heartbreak. They hope.





	1. Prologue: End of Fifth Year

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! basically me n my friend have been writing this fic for ages and it wasn't meant to get this long but woop here we are. updates should be fairly regular because we have written a lot already but also we are both mega busy with college and work and such  
> we're open to ideas and potential plot lines bc writing is always better with wider ideas (our igs are @moriarteaspoon and @at_thezenith, and @at-thezenith is her tumblr as well)
> 
>  
> 
> comments and kudos r always super appreciated ofc :)) thank u all

“To be frank, Dumbledore, Harry is my _godson_. It should’ve been us looking after him from the start.” Remus just watched as Sirius grew more and more irate, gesturing wildly towards their old headmaster, who was sat – cool as ever – in a plush aubergine-coloured armchair beside the mantelpiece.

“And maybe you would have been,” Dumbledore said, holding eye contact with Sirius, “had you not spent twelve years in Azkaban.”

Sirius’ jaw snapped shut in anger, glaring daggers at the man before him. Before he could open his mouth, Remus stepped forward, hands clenched into fists in an effort to stop them from shaking.

“Wrongfully.” His voice was icy, gaze strong. “He spent twelve years there wrongfully. And, with all due respect, I believe some of the blame lies with you.”

Remus crossed the room in long strides, ending up at Sirius’ side, his hand resting comfortably on the small of his back. He felt some of the tension leave Sirius with the touch and hoped that it would calm him enough to prevent hexes being thrown. “The Dursleys are not good people, and we refuse to leave Harry with them for another second.”

“Protection be damned,” Sirius added, as Dumbledore opened his mouth. “We can protect him well enough ourselves – believe me when I say Grimmauld Place is one of the most well-protected buildings in the country – the Blacks were a paranoid lot.”

“You really think the safest place for Harry to be is at the headquarters of the Order?” Dumbledore snapped.

“Yes,” Remus replied smoothly. “He’ll be surrounded by some of the best Aurors we know. And, more importantly, people he likes and feels safe around.”

“I don’t think–”

“This isn’t about what you think!” Sirius said, his voice loud in the quiet office. “We’re his rightful guardians, this has nothing to do with you. He’s more than just a part of your grand fucking plan.”

Expecting a reprimand from either his former headmaster, or his boyfriend, he snapped his jaw shut, but smiled slightly when he saw Remus nodding instead.

“And regardless, he’s safer with us than the Dursleys.” Remus felt an acid burn creep up his throat at the name. “He’s not going back there.”

“It’s what James and Lily would have wanted,” Sirius added softly, earning a gentle frown from Remus, and a rather stunned gaze from his old headmaster.

Two muffled knocks reverberated through the room, and the door opened to reveal a stern looking McGonagall, and a rather tired looking Harry. Without thinking, Sirius and Remus crossed the room quickly and pulled Harry into a tight hug, ignoring the pointed cough from Dumbledore. Harry himself relaxed into their hugs, but kept his eyes on Dumbledore.

“What’s going to happen now?” he asked.

“You’re coming home with us,” Sirius said quickly, ignoring Dumbledore. “If you want, that is.”

Harry squinted at him. “What, you think I _like_ living there? I told you in third year, I want to live with you.”

All three of them turned to Dumbledore, who was looking more than a little resigned. His expression told those gathered around him that, if he had his way, Harry would be kept as far from Remus and Sirius as physically possible; his exasperated sigh added that he would rather avoid the cataclysmic outrage it would cause from the three adults before him.

“Grimmauld place is well protected. Do not make me regret this decision.”

“And you’ll be working on Sirius’ pardon, I take it?” Remus asked lightly, not even deigning to acknowledge Dumbledore’s reluctant agreement. Sirius felt the overwhelming urge to pull him into a kiss at the way his boyfriend was handling the situation, but settled for taking his hand gently.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I think it is time to make some amends.”

At that, both Remus and Sirius scoffed disbelievingly – Remus felt himself holding back a growl at the offhand nature with which Dumbledore addressed the subject.

Twelve years. Twelve agonising years that neither of them would ever get back, twelve scars (Remus had counted) that Sirius sure as all hell didn’t deserve. The hand clasped around his kept him grounded, and he settled for fixing Dumbledore with an irascible stare, who stared back coolly.

“Harry, you can go back to your dormitory now. Minerva, would you mind Floo’ing Fudge? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to finally hear from us.”

Harry left, casting a hopeful glance to Sirius and Remus as he left, while McGonagall strode to the fireplace, tossing powder into the flames, and called “Cornelius!”

Fudge’s head instantly appeared, and almost deflated in relief. “Oh, Minerva, wonderful, thank you for calling, I’ve been swamped ever since that little business at the Department of Secrets–”

“Yes, well, that’s what we’ve called to discuss. Would you mind stepping out? It’s a little undignified to be kneeling on the floor, I imagine,” she replied.

“Ah– yes, yes of course, of course.” Fudge’s head disappeared, and a moment later was stood next to the fire, dropping ash all over the rug. He noticed Dumbledore almost immediately, and stiffened, but it wasn’t until he caught the steely glares of Remus and Sirius that he started to look flustered. “Oh, hello, Mr Black. Mr Lupin. I trust that– that Harry is doing alright?”

“He’s doing well, murder attempt aside,” Remus said coldly. He had no love for Fudge – his anti-werewolf laws had made it almost impossible for him to find work, let alone live an even vaguely comfortable life. Sirius appeared to be considering the same thought, as he let out a soft growl next to him, fisting his hand in the back of Remus’ shirt. “So, about Sirius’ pardon? Since I’m sure you’re now very well aware that he’s innocent.”

“Ah, yes, of course, we’re getting right on that, but you must understand, there are certain… procedures,” Fudge said, wilting under Remus’ glare. “But we’ll have one within the month, I assure you.”

“And, there is the small matter of telling the public that Voldemort is back,” Dumbledore said, heedless of Fudge’s wince. “Of course, Minister, we will be the first to support you in the official _Prophet_ statement.” He looked altogether amused at Fudge fidgeting on his rug like an errant schoolboy, and he sat back, steepling his fingers.

Fudge’s face went through a number of emotions – shock, despair, and settled into red-faced anger. “So that’s what you planned, eh? Get me here and bully me into doing what you want?”

“No, Cornelius,” McGonagall said curtly, “you are here because you need support, and we have two eyewitnesses here–” she gestured to Remus and Sirius “–who will verify that Voldemort really is back, along with half of the Order. And you would be foolish if you didn’t accept the offer, _Minister_.”

“As if the public are going to believe the words of an escaped convict and an unemployed werewo–” Fudge shrank under the combined stares, and sighed. “Fine. I want written statements from them both, and Harry–”

“Harry’s been through enough, hasn’t he?” Sirius snapped.

“And the rest of the group that were there tonight,” Fudge ploughed on, not even sparing Sirius a glance. “I’ll have an interview with the _Prophet_ tomorrow, see if I can't stop the rumour mill from turning. Merlin’s beard, this is a fine mess.” He turned to go, and Dumbledore stood.

“You refused to listen to me, Cornelius, and this is what happened. Don’t make the same mistake again.”

“Is that a threat, Albus?”

“Not at all, it’s a request.” Fudge sniffed in response, and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder who in the whole of the – questionably – intelligent Ministry thought that this man would ever make a good leader. Weaselly little shite.

Fudge couldn’t seem to bear the tension in the room that was mostly his doing, and didn’t so much as utter a goodbye before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and disappearing rather inelegantly into the fireplace.

“Well, that went well,” Sirius muttered.

“At least you’ve got your pardon on the way,” Remus said, making Sirius smile. “In about a month, you’ll officially be a free man.”

“Feels good to hear that.”

“Harry will stay here for the rest of the term,” Dumbledore interrupted, making them both turn. “I suggest in the meantime you both go back to Grimmauld Place and ensure it is as safe as we believe.” Something changed in him then, and Remus swore he could catch a smile hidden in that long beard. “Do make sure it’s somewhere a sixteen-year-old will enjoy living, as well.”


	2. Back To Grimmauld Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first proper chapter! hope you all enjoy

The day they picked Harry up was up on the list of the best days of Sirius’ life. Although he was yet to receive his official pardon, he had Dumbledore’s word that it was a work in progress, which was far better than a month ago. Even though Sirius would have liked to have been there in human form, his excitement wasn’t dampened by the fact that he was level with everyone’s knees. Among the bustling crowd of families waiting for the Hogwarts Express, Sirius found himself brimming with happiness that Harry was finally coming home to where he was supposed to be. Despite the hordes of people, Remus was great for cutting through crowds; being over six feet tall with a vaguely frightening resting face had its benefits.

Right on time, a train whistle sounded, and the crowd surged forward, as the Express rounded the corner in all its scarlet glory, and students leaned out of the window, trying to spot their family in amongst the faces. Remus pushed forward, Sirius at his ankles, and they made their way to the back of the train.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were one of the last people to leave the train, Ron and Hermione standing protectively either side of Harry, faces set for an argument with anyone, it seemed, until they spotted Remus standing rather awkwardly next to a large black dog. Harry’s face lit up, and he almost flung himself at Remus, before scratching Padfoot’s head rather enthusiastically.

“Hey there, troublemaker,” Remus said, “how’s it going?”

Harry stepped back, swiping a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s going okay,” he shrugged, avoiding Remus' disbelieving gaze, and Padfoot’s somehow knowing doggy stare.

“Of course. Let’s go find the Weasleys, they should be here somewhere,” Remus said, looking around for the familiar red hair. Ron, by some kind of family telepathy, seemed to know exactly where to go, and soon found his mother, who just about assailed him with her welcoming hug.

They made small talk for a little bit, before leaving Ron and Hermione with the Weasleys. Remus led the way out of the station, towards the taxi he’d ordered, despite the barking protests from Sirius, who had earlier declared that he didn’t like travelling in an enclosed space and under no circumstances would he get into any sort of Muggle car. A swift kick to the ankle from Remus silenced any more arguing, and they got in, Harry in the middle, grinning as he watched Sirius stick his head out of the window for most of the drive.

* * *

 

As soon as they had stepped foot in Grimmauld Place, Sirius transformed back to human form in order to give Harry  a long overdue hug.

“Tea, Harry?” Remus asked, making a beeline for the kitchen despite the front door not having yet shut behind him. Harry barely had time to answer in the affirmative before Sirius was indignantly asking, “ _no tea for your boyfriend, then?”_ Once the kettle was boiled and mugs filled with milky tea, Remus saw Harry beginning to visibly relax.

“Don’t suppose you got any biscuits?” Sirius chuckled at Harry’s question, and a flick of his wand brought a plate full of chocolate digestives pretty much flying towards the table. Remus shook his head, sweeping his own wand over the table to clear up the crumbs that had been scattered over the oak table by Sirius’ violent wand action. After a few minutes of light conversation and slurping of tea, a comfortable silence fell over the table, broken only when the cups were empty.

“So, I– I wanted to ask,” Harry’s eyes were cast down, fingers picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his rust-coloured jumper. “How did you – I mean, Dumbledore was pretty against the whole thing, and obviously I’m, uh, really grateful you did but-”

“How come you’re here?” Sirius asked softly. Harry nodded, and Sirius floundered for a moment. How to describe to a fifteen-year-old how his gay godfathers had managed to convince his mental headmaster to allow him to live with them rather than in an abusive (if magically protected) Muggle household? Thankfully, Remus stepped in.

“Honestly, you’ve got Sirius to thank. Had a right go at old Albus.”

“Really?”

“He’s exaggerating,” Sirius said, kicking Remus under the table.

“Me? Exaggerating? Never,” Remus said with a smile. Harry chuckled, tipping the last of his tea into his mouth.

“I might have raised my voice a little. But only because Dumbledore was wrong. There’s no valid reason for you to stay with those fu-”

“Language, Pads.”

“Fudgers. Those fudgers.”

“Good boy,” Remus said, throwing a slight smirk at Sirius over the lip of his mug. Sirius cleared his throat before continuing.

“Anyway, we’re more than happy to have you here.”

“What about the protection thing? From my mum?”

“It’s not worth it,” Remus cut in without hesitation. “This place is protected just as well. Better, even.”

“Okay.”

“You know, if,” Sirius said, running a hand through his hair – it needed a wash. “If you ever have any questions – I know we’re not your parents, but-”

“Yeah, you guys _really_ don’t need to have the sex talk with me.”

“Okay, and _that_ is my cue to leave," Sirius said, flicking his wand and sending the used mugs gently towards the sink. He left the room with his usual saunter, and flicked Harry’s ear on the way out earning a laugh from him.

 

* * *

 

 

The flames tickled the roof of the fireplace, fading from orange to green to purple as Ron pointed his wand at them. He was sat with his back against the sofa, deaf to the conversation going on behind him.

“Okay right but, if the Goblin Wars happened in 1681,” Harry was alternating between scratching his head with the quill in his hand, and snacking on the popcorn in the bowl in front of him. “Then how come Spikeface doesn’t come up until ’93?”

“No, Harry, that’s Spikeface the Second. It was Spikeface the _First_ that was in the war,” Hermione replied, not even looking up from her parchment.

“How the fuck do they expect me to learn all these names if they’re all called the same damn thing?”

“I would say ‘language’,” Remus said from the doorway, “but I fully agree – there’s a third Spikeface in the Goblin Wars somewhere.”

“A _third_?”

At that, Sirius entered the room, levitating a tray laden with tea and chocolate biscuits.  “I come bearing snacks,” he said in a sing-song voice as Remus rolled his eyes. “So, Ron, heard the Cannons got a new player?”

Snapping back into the conversation with almost dizzying speed, Ron began a rant of immense detail about Alex Alverez – the Cannons’ new Keeper.

“And he used to play internationally! He’s the best player they’ve had in years-”

“And he’s _fit_ ,” Hermione added.

“Merlin, _yes_. Have you seen his _shoulders_?” Harry said, setting his tea down. Remus choked in an effort to stop his tea from spraying out his mouth.

“Alex Alverez is a guy?”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“So, you’re…” Sirius was bug-eyed.

“Bi, yeah,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“See, I was right,” Remus said, trying and failing to keep his expression neutral. “It’s contagious.”

“I really don’t wanna prove your point, but out of the people in this room, exactly one of them is straight,” Hermione added.

“Bets on Ron,” Sirius said, with a nod from Remus.

Ron quirked an eyebrow. “Sure, sure. Anyway, Alverez is one of the best at tight manoeuvres in the game right now–”

“He can manoeuvre right into me anytime,” Harry muttered, earning a smack from Hermione with her revision notes and making Remus choke on his tea again.

“ _Harry James Potter_!”

Sirius was absolutely no help; he had gone out of the door howling with laughter, and a thud let the others know that he’d sunk to the floor. Remus just stood there, torn between trying not to laugh as well and staring in disbelief at a smirking Harry. Sirius managed to eventually claw his way up from the ground, and came back into the room, still sniggering.

“You,” he pointed at Harry, “are a menace, and I’m so proud of you.”

 

* * *

 

 “Here was me thinking you were on a health kick.”

“Oh, shut up, it helps,” Sirius replied, stubbing out his cigarette. “How’d you know I was up here?”

“You always liked the Astronomy tower at school, makes sense you’d wanna be up high.” Sirius huffed a laugh, and Remus sat next to him, dangling his legs off the roof of the house. “Penny for your thoughts,” he added, staring up at the hazy orange sky.

“Just – wondering what’s going to happen. Harry’s got to go back to school at some point and I don’t trust Dumbledore to keep him safe, not after what he’s put him through.”

“I know, but it’ll be different. We’re his guardians now, and we can pull the concerned parent routine if Harry’s in trouble. You always were the best at making a fuss,” Remus said, putting his arm around Sirius and pulling him closer.

Sirius half-smiled at him, lighting up again. “That’s what I'm worried about,” he said, taking a drag. “That I won’t have to act concerned.”

“Worst comes to worst we’ll just kidnap him.”

“Remus John Lupin, are you suggesting a reckless and utterly stupid plan?”

“I might be,” replied Remus. Sirius smiled properly, and pulled him in, kissing him.

“What do you reckon,” Sirius said slowly, “James would say? About how we’re looking after Harry?”

Remus sighed, and pulled Sirius in close, thinking before he answered.

“I don’t know. It’s – I mean, he’s not exactly had the most normal childhood.”

“Eh, normal is boring.”

“How did I know you’d say that?” Remus smiled, and pressed a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s head. “But really. I reckon we handled the bi thing pretty well.”

“We’d be wankers if we didn’t.”

“You’re a wanker regardless.” Sirius laughed at that, muttering something involving the word _wanking_ that Remus pretended not to find funny. It was silent for a moment afterwards, as the pair sat on the roof, watching the clouds as they made their journey across the sky.

“Would he think we’re doing a good job?” Sirius asked quietly.

“We’re doing the best we can, Pads. It’ll be alright.”

“I ever tell you I love you to the moon and back?”

“Sirius, I swear to Merlin I’ll drop kick you off this roof.”

“Nah. You love me too much,” Sirius said, stubbing his cigarette and pulling Remus forward by the collar of his jumper.

“Yeah, you sod.” Remus kissed him softly. “I do.”

By the time they disentangled themselves and made their way back down the rickety staircase, the sun had fully set, and a waning moon was just visible through a thin veil of cloud. It matched the shifting tattoo on Sirius’ forearm perfectly; it was currently covered by Remus’ fingers as he pulled Sirius towards their bedroom. On reaching the room, Remus kicked the door shut and gently crowded Sirius against it, leaning down to meet his lips. Sirius’ hands found Remus’ hips, pulling him closer, and not missing the gasp the action elicited.

“Wanna do this here?” Sirius asked between kisses.

“Love, I’m thirty-six. My back can’t handle that anymore.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Shut up,” Remus all but growled, smiling into their kisses. Allowing Sirius some control, Remus let himself be pulled towards the bed, settling himself back on the pillows.

“Mm. You look good like this,” Sirius said, kissing down the juncture of Remus’ jaw.

“Like what?”

“Blushing.”

“Oh, blow me,” Remus said, hiding his head under his arm.

“Go on, then,” Sirius quipped, already moving his hands to the buckle of Remus’ belt.

When Sirius awoke, the sun was forcing dusty rays through the gaps in the curtains, casting a strip of sunlight over Remus’ sleeping face. Sirius kissed his cheek softly, before rolling out of bed and pulling on the dressing gown that was hooked on the wardrobe door. The house may have been all fancy and protected – but it got fucking _cold_.

“Still can't get that poster off the wall, huh?” Remus mumbled from the bed, staring up at the smiling Muggle model on the wall.

Sirius hummed, leaning over and attempting to yank it from the wall, to no avail. “Mmm, no. I don’t think teenage me was planning on redecorating here.”

“I don’t think teenage you was planning on being here at all.”

Sirius snorted, staring at the poster. “You’re right there, Moons. God, remember when I thought I was straight?” He flopped back down next to Remus, nuzzling his neck.

“What, when you took most girls in our year out to Hogsmeade?” Remus said amusedly, even as Sirius whacked him on the chest. “I remember being jealous.”

“Oh, really?”

“Pads, you’d just hit puberty and suddenly you weren’t a scrawny git anymore, ‘course I was jealous.”

“Funny, because you’re still a scrawny git, and I still think you’re the fittest man alive.”

“Shows what you know – Pads, _no_ , it’s too early,” Remus complained, as Sirius kissed down his neck. “I won’t make you breakfast.”

“I’m a better cook, anyway.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated :)


	3. Summertime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the trio finally escape grimmauld place, and the rest of the chapter is just Gay  
> hope you guys enjoy

The kids weren’t around when they finally got downstairs, so Sirius started on breakfast whilst Remus gulped down a cup of coffee. When the trio finally stumbled, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen, they were greeted with almost perfectly cooked eggs and bacon, with veggie sausages for Hermione. On the surface, it looked effortless, and Remus and Sirius were happy to pretend that they hadn’t had a screaming match over who should go to the corner shop in their pyjamas to pick up the sausages. Sirius bribed him with coffee as Remus half-stomped out of the door, returning ten minutes later demanding yet more caffeine and muttering about irritating neighbours.

“So, what’re your plans today, you lot?” Sirius asked.

Harry blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to go out? We’re in London, after all, I’m sure there’s places for three kids to hang out.”

“But Dumbledore said –”

“You’ve got your mirror, and at least ten braincells between you. As long as you stay in busy places, you’ll be fine,” Sirius cut in, looking to Remus for confirmation, who shrugged and nodded.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to see Muggle London,” Ron said. “Reckon we can go a whole day without running into some Death Eaters?” Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed a little.

“Morbid.” Remus said, shaking his head. “Go on, off with you,”

Laden with rucksacks full of food and muggle money, the trio soon left the house, and they were grateful for it – as nice as the house was, it didn’t compare to spending a summer’s day in the cool breeze. Hermione led the way; despite having grown up nearer the sea, she knew enough from day trips to London to not get lost. Firstly, they found a bustling street, fit to bursting with various charity shops, at which all three of them spent a good amount of money on jumpers, records, and band t-shirts. In his opinion, Harry’s best buy was a graphic t-shirt with David Bowie’s classic _Heroes_ album cover.

After having lunch in a café, and attempting to explain some of the odder British staple foods to Ron (“ _No, really. Toad in the Hole?”_ ), the trio stumbled upon a decent-sized football field. They set their bags down, and the boys gaped as Hermione pulled a large picnic blanket from her bag.

“How did you even fit that in your bag?” Ron asked.

“Undetectable Expansion Charm,” Hermione replied, “and don’t look at me like that – there’s—”

“ _There’s nothing bad about being prepared,”_ Harry and Ron droned simultaneously, in an awful recreation of Hermione’s voice. She responded by chucking her apple core at them. The sun beat down on them, unusually hot for the beginning of July, and Hermione and Harry laughed as Ron stopped to apply layer on layer of sun cream to his freckled skin.

“And you laugh at me for being prepared,” Hermione said between chuckles.

“Yeah, well, you will never know the true pain of sunburn. I’m fucking _Irish_ ,” Ron responded, furiously rubbing the cream into his nose.

The rest of the day was spent in that park, laughing, and eating their way through the packed lunches that Sirius had made for them.

 

* * *

 

“Really Sirius, you’d think with the help of an elf, you’d be able to retain _some_ sense of cleanliness.”

“Nice to see you too, Molly,” Sirius muttered, ushering the Weasley parents into his home, ignoring the look Remus shot at him telling him to _bloody behave_. Which he could do very easily – he was an adult now, _thank you very much._

“Honestly, Remus, when was the last time one of you took a broom to this floor?” Molly admonished, pulling Remus by the elbow into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on before anyone could even offer her a drink. Ginny simply rolled her eyes and bounded up the stairs towards Hermione’s room.

“Afternoon, Sirius.” A slightly calmer voice came from the doorway – Arthur Weasley stood there, laden with trunks.

“Always a pleasure, Arthur,” Sirius greeted him, “let me take a few of those bags, and I’ll show you to your room.”

Arthur muttered a thank you, and nodded to the trunks on the floor beside him, and together they levitated the bags up the stairs to the room beside the one Harry and Ron were currently sharing. Ginny’s bags were left in Hermione’s room as the pair headed back downstairs to rescue Remus from what was no doubt a lengthy discussion about the state of their pots and pans.

“-Mrs. Crocker’s, I’d recommend for cauldrons. Gets the nastiest of stains off – even lacewings.”

“We’ll be sure to try it out, Molly, thank you,” Remus said, glancing longingly at the cup of coffee that was quickly losing heat on the counter. Sensing this, Sirius muttered an incantation to heat up the coffee, and pressed it into Remus’ hands, saving him from an intensive cleaning lecture with a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Molly, you’ve just got here. Let us worry about the cleaning – why don’t you go see if the kids are up yet?” Sirius said, glad when Molly agreed to his suggestion and lead Arthur up the stairs to the kids’ rooms.

“Full house, huh? Just like the old days.”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, “except this time we’ve got to _host_ said people.”

“Ah, remember when we could just hide away with James, and no one would notice we were gone ‘til dinner.”

“Fuck. Dinner,” Remus groaned, head in his hands. “We’ve got to make dinner for eight people.”

“Nine,” Sirius corrected. “Don’t forget Charlie.”

“Well, fuck me sideways.”

“I swear you guys forget that _you have a child now._ ” Both Remus and Sirius whipped around to see Harry standing in the doorway, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disgusted. “A child that really super doesn’t wanna hear that.”

“It’s an expression!” Remus defended himself as Sirius howled with laughter. “I don’t know how to cook for nine people.”

“Nine? Who else is coming?” Harry asked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard beside him.

“Did we not tell you? Charlie’s flying in from Romania. Something about a rogue Welsh Green. He’s staying with us for a couple days,” Sirius said.

“What? Charlie’s staying here?” Harry said, turning so quickly that he barely caught his mug before it went flying to the floor.

“What are you–” Remus started before Sirius cut in, smirking.

“Someone’s got a crush.” He elongated the last word in a high-pitched voice.

“What? No, I don’t. I mean, yeah, he’s fit – have you _seen_ him at Quidditch? He’s a legend in Gryffindor. And he keeps dragons – that’s cool. Oh, his hair’s nice too, that’s–” Harry stopped himself when he saw the raised eyebrows and smirks of his godfathers. He cleared his throat. “But anyway, yeah. It’s not a _crush._ He’s just kinda–”

“Fit?” Sirius cut in.

“Attractive?” Remus added.

“You’d let him _manoeuvre right into you anytime?_ ” Sirius said, laughing as Remus hit him gently upside the head. Harry blushed the colour of his Gryffindor jumper, and left without his coffee.

Ron was still asleep when he re-entered his bedroom, so, as quietly as he could, Harry began pulling clothes from his drawers. The room was cast in the amber hues of morning light, with shadows over the far side. Six months ago, Harry reflected, this room was bare, with the exception of the ghastly wallpaper that they had been unable to paint over. Each time they had tried, the paint had disappeared within a matter of minutes – turned out Walburga couldn’t stand the idea of not leaving her mark on the house. Now, however, the wardrobe and dressers were full of Gryffindor jerseys and muggle clothes, and Quidditch posters covered up the majority of the hideous wallpaper. Twin beds occupied the majority of the floorspace, with discarded clothes and open trunks covering up the rest. Harry left the room with a smirk – Walburga could get absolutely _fucked_.

“Morning Harry, dear.” Molly, Harry knew, had only arrived earlier that morning, and was already muttering the incantations to remove dust from the light fixtures in the hallway.

“Morning, Mrs Weasley.”

“Ron up yet?” Harry answered with a shake of his head, to which Molly replied _of course he isn’t – lazy sod_. That was expected – Harry fully agreed. What he didn’t expect, was for Molly to cease her cleaning, and pull him into a tight hug.

“All you’ve been through,” she was muttering against his shoulder. “Just a child.”

Harry hugged back, although he felt awkward. What the fuck did he say to that?

“Are you alright, dear?” Harry also didn’t expect the range of emotions that that particular question sparked. It wasn’t that Remus and Sirius didn’t ask him, rather that he was never sure how to answer. He didn’t want to worry them, or risk not being allowed to live with them anymore. More importantly, he never wanted to make them believe that he wasn’t grateful, _happy_ , to be here – he could see that they were trying hard, and they weren’t the cause of his upset.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” Even that was hard for him to admit. Molly pulled back slightly, willing him to continue.

“It’s stupid just, everything feels so... uncertain? Like, I have no idea what happened, or is happening, or what’s gonna happen. I don’t… There’s so much on me. Like, _just_ on me. I have literally no clue how to handle that. And I don’t want Remus and Sirius to think that I– that I can’t do it? Because sometimes I think they look at me and see my dad, but _I’m not him_ and I can’t–” Harry didn’t realise he’d started to cry, but apparently, he had, because Molly had pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and was wiping the wetness from his cheeks.

“No one deserves anything that you’ve been through. And the pressure on you is far from fair. Now,” Molly said, looking him in the eye, “you have a full house of people who love you, young man, and we will _all_ listen when you need to talk about this sort of thing. And as for your godfathers, they loved James very much. And I know for a fact that they love you equally. But I think maybe this is something you need to talk about with them.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Harry said, stepping back in and hugging her. Not having parents was shit – but knowing there were people who loved him like parents helped.

* * *

 

As Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were setting the table for dinner that evening, the piercing doorbell of 12 Grimmauld Place rang – thrice. When Remus opened the door, he was greeted by a flurry of bubble-gum-pink hair and leather. Tonks fist-bumped him and breezed right on past, heading straight for the smell of food coming from the kitchen. With a slightly more subdued entrance came Charlie Weasley, greeting Remus with a strong handshake and small talk. Once they were all seated at the mahogany table, surrounded by plates upon plates of delicious food (courtesy of Molly and Kreacher), conversation refused to die down for even a second.

“I think that’s enough about Quidditch now, dear.”

“But mum, Alvarez is–” Ron replied to his mother indignantly.

“Ron, your brother’s just got here, and you haven’t given him a chance to speak!” At that, Ron shut up and began digging into his dinner, allowing his mum to grill Charlie about his time in Romania.

“Yeah, mum, it’s not bad. Miss you lot,” Charlie said with a smile. “It’s hard work but, y’know, beats spending all day in a damn bank.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Sirius replied, raising a glass, and for the rest of the dinner they were engrossed in conversation (much to the chagrin of Harry, who had been trying to get Charlie’s attention for the majority of the meal).

Later, however, when Harry was in his trackies heading up for bed, he caught Charlie on the balcony, having a smoke. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Harry headed out.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Harry! How’s things?” Charlie said, offering a cigarette to Harry, which he accepted, despite his hatred of the smell.

“Yeah, uh… Been better, y’know?”

Charlie snorted in response, “I can imagine. With everything that’s going on, it can’t be easy. Plus,” Charlie added, leaning over the balcony and smirking, “being queer always adds to the trouble, huh?”

“That obvious?” Harry said, trying his hardest not to cough as he took a drag.

“Well, kinda, mate. Also, Ron doesn’t miss a detail in his letters.”

“Figures.” Ron had always been his least implicit in his letters to his older brother.

“You come out to the family yet?” Charlie said, now turning to face Harry.

“Remus and Sirius, yeah. All my friends know. Not sure if your parents know – I haven’t told them.”

“Yeah, I– I know they can seem old fashioned. And yeah, it took them a while to get used to it when I came out. But y’know. They love you. They’ll be fine.” Charlie took a drag, and smiled at Harry, though it was tight – like he didn’t fully mean it.

“They weren’t okay with it?”

“Eh. I’ve seen worse but,” Charlie chuckled ruefully, “there was a reason I took the job in Romania, rather than Ireland.”

“How long are you here for, then? I didn’t even know you were coming ‘til yesterday.”

“I’m off tomorrow, just popping in before I head to Wales.”

“Ah, right,” Harry said, trying his best to hide his disappointment. But, of course, Charlie noticed.

“You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, attempting to force his brain to form some sort of coherent sentence.

“Tell you what,” Charlie said, checking his watch, “I'm not off ‘til the afternoon tomorrow, and it’s a nice night. How’s about we stay up for a little bit longer? I’m saving you from Ron’s snoring,” he added, nudging Harry with his shoulder and winking.

Harry grinned, and leaned over the balcony, copying Charlie. “You’re right, but I think the shit I get him into entitles him to snore as much as he wants.”

“Well, he also gushes about all the shit you lot get up to, so I reckon you’re alright. He sent me a two-foot-long letter after the dragon thing, so I knew you were sticking around for a while.”

Harry laughed. “I forgot about that. How’s Norberta?”

“Roaming free and loving life. Hasn’t even killed anyone, as far as I know.”

“That’s… great?”

“Trust me, it’s amazing. Should have a body count of at least twenty by now.”

“Damn, dragons get around.”

Charlie threw back his head laughing, and Harry felt a little thrill go through him at making him laugh, and he joined in, the two of them giggling on the balcony.

“Oi!” a voice came from overhead. Harry dropped his cigarette and they both looked up to see a disgruntled Sirius peering out of his window. “Keep it down, would you? The oldies are trying to sleep.”

“Sorry, _Dad_ ,” Harry said without thinking.

Even from two stories below, he could hear Sirius’ voice shake. “Go to sleep, you daft idiots. It’s one in the morning.” As they started to head back inside, Sirius added, “And don’t think I didn’t see you with that cig, Mr Potter.”

“Shit.”

* * *

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Sirius heard Remus mumble sleepily from their bed, “but is our godson up at one in the morning, smoking and flirting with a guy?”

Sirius nodded. “We’ve taught him well.”

“You,” Remus said, shifting so that Sirius could cuddle up beside him, “are just happy he called you dad.”

Sirius hummed happily. It was a conflicting feeling – happy as he was that Harry saw him like that, he felt at the same time that he was replacing James. He couldn’t help but think that even though this was best for Harry, it would be even better if James and Lily were here to see him grow up.

“I can tell when you worry, y’know,” Remus said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“What if we’re replacing them?”

“Pads I – I know it’s shitty to think about. But, don’t you think James and Lily would rather have us looking after him? People that love him, and love _them_?”

“I know. You’re right.” Sirius muttered. “James would say the same if he was here – _come on mate, it’s been fifteen years – get over me.”_

Remus laughed and pulled his boyfriend closer. An idea sparked in his head – not a new idea by any means, but one that he had never really had the courage to mention until now.

“Y’know something that might – I don’t know, prove to everyone else that we can handle this?”

“Yeah?” Sirius replied, already falling asleep on Remus’ chest.

“We should get married.”

“I–” Sirius sat up immediately. “Are you fucking _proposing_?”

To anyone else, Sirius’ tone might have come across as angry, but Remus knew him well enough to recognise his tone as _pretty fucking surprised._

“Yeah. Guess so,” Remus said, from his very attractive position smushed against the pillows.

“Guess so? You _guess so_. Moony, where is the _romance_?” Remus laughed in response, sitting up as well so he could look Sirius in the eye.

“I’ll give you romance,” he muttered. Then, louder, “Sirius Black. I’ve loved you since we were twelve and you saw my scars and told me you thought I was awesome anyway. I love you because you’re funny as fuck, and you make me feel safe. You became an Animagus for me. You’ve been by my side since I was eleven, and I want you there for the rest of however long we have left.” He paused, wiping a tear from Sirius’ face. “So, yeah,” he continued, “I _guess_ we should get married.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Sirius said softly, pushing forward and kissing Remus – his _fiancé_ – with a force that pushed him backwards onto the bed. The kisses were far from soft, teeth clashing and hands roaming until Remus was holding himself up over Sirius, forearms framing his face as they rocked together gently.

“You never answered my – _fuck_ – never answered my question.” Remus said, his voice hoarse. Sirius looked gorgeous underneath him, eyes half-lidded, his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure. When he answered, his voice was free of all his usual sarcasm.

“You fucking – _yes_ , of course it’s a yes.” Remus smiled, rocking his hips just that little bit harder, and leant down to kiss his fiancé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated :)


	4. 31st July, 1996

The next morning was a lazy one for everyone in the household. Harry, having fallen asleep just before the sun had started to rise, was snoring away in his room, one bed across from Ron, who appeared to be sleep talking. Hermione and Ginny, though awake, had not yet changed from their pyjamas, and were talking quietly about the coming school year. Charlie, too, was awake, silently scribbling away at his annotated drawings of various dragons. He thought that, one day, he might like to put together a book, but magic folk were notoriously hateful of the beautiful animals, so maybe that was a dream for another time.

So, it was a surprise to everyone in the household when something that sounded like a gong forced everyone out of their sleepy states. They all shuffled downstairs, rubbing sleep from their eyes, to find Sirius standing beside an ancient-looking instrument.

“The fuck is that?” Harry muttered, receiving a half-hearted reprimand from Remus.

“The drum of Francis Drake, apparently. The family vault finally came to some use,” Sirius replied.

“The use of waking everyone up at the arse crack of dawn?” Tonks quipped, not bothering to hide her yawn.

“No,” Remus replied slowly, shooting a smile at Sirius. **“** So, we have an announcement, I guess.”

“Please just tell us you’re pregnant so I can go back to sleep,” mumbled Ron.

“We’re, um,” Sirius took a breath, suddenly wary of how his loved ones would react, “we’re getting married.”

“No shit!” Harry exclaimed, coming forward to hug his godfathers. The pair were met with similar excitement from everyone in the room, and Arthur was too excited to even admonish them for popping open a bottle of vintage champagne to have with breakfast. Towards the end of the incredibly indulgent breakfast, Kreacher even offered his congratulations.

“Wait,” Hermione said, around a mouthful of toast, “not trying to be a downer, here, but gay marriage – it’s not legal.”

“Ah, that’s just for muggles,” Remus replied. “Wizards might have weird prejudices about blood purity and all that, but we’re a bit less behind on the gay front.”

At that, Sirius and Harry snorted into their respective meals, and no-one noticed how tight Mrs Weasley’s smile had become. Everyone except Ron.

“Mum,” Ron came up to her room once the plates were cleared and washed. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing, dear,” Molly replied, although the way she was picking at her nails contradicted her words. Ron decided it was better just to be out with it.

“Do you have a problem with Remus and Sirius?” he asked, causing his mother to look up in surprise.

“Of course not!” she said, offended. “They’re wonderful together.” Ron only hummed in response, sensing more coming.

“I just think – and I’m not the only one – that marriage is for a man and a woman. I don’t have a problem with them being together, I just–”

“Don’t like that they’re getting married,” Ron finished for her.

“Exactly.”

“Mum, you,” Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “you have to know how wrong that is. It’s ridiculous. Are you saying you you’d be against Charlie getting married?”

“What? Of course n–”

“What about me, Mum? What if I, maybe one day, wanted to marry a guy?”

Molly’s eyes widened and she scoffed. “Well, that’s just ridiculous. You’re not gay.”

“No,” Ron conceded, “I’m bi. Bisexual.”

“Oh.” For once, Molly didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“It’s not a bad thing, Mum. And besides, if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Remus and Sirius, so I’m not gonna let you get in the way of that.”

When Molly didn’t reply, Ron got up slowly, and left the room. He jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he spun to see Remus stood next to him.

“Ah, did you hear all that?” he asked, and Remus answered with a nod.

“Yeah. She’ll come around, y’know. She’s a good person.” Ron grunted, not wanting to commit himself to an answer. “You didn’t have to say all that, y’know.”

“Yeah, well. Someone needed to say something.”

“Just so you know, if you ever wanna talk about any of this – you know me and Sirius are here.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Ron replied with a small smile. Then, to the surprise of both of them, Ron stepped forward and gave Remus a quick hug, before clearing his throat, and heading upstairs.

* * *

“Alright, so,” Molly said a few days later, levitating a large blue binder towards the table; it landed with a _thunk_ , forcing everybody at the table awake. Remus groaned into his coffee. “Where are you planning on holding this wedding?” She seemed to have shaken off any lingering disapproval; Remus hoped that the chat she’d had with Ron had drummed some sense into her.

“How about in bed?” Remus muttered, frowning. Sirius chuckled and rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

“Don’t be silly, Remus.” Molly swatted at him good-naturedly with her wand. Remus grinned back, any lasting doubts disappearing. “So, I was thinking – the Burrow has a decent-sized garden. If I could find someone to help with the cooking–”

“I’ll help,” Hermione offered, seconded by Ron, Arthur, and Tonks. As gently as she could, Molly turned down that last offer – _“oh you needn’t trouble yourself dear – you can help the boys in the garden”._ Perhaps Molly thought she could do less damage away from the food.

“Are you sure, Molly? That’s a lot to offer,” Sirius asked, to which Molly replied that she would be honoured to host the wedding.

The next hour was spent deciding colour schemes (white and lilac), dress codes (smart-casual, with bespoke suits for the grooms), and flower arrangements (white stargazer lilies, and red roses). Remus, to be honest with himself, was bored to all fuck, but he appreciated the sentiment. He kept catching Sirius’ eye over Molly’s binder, and found himself smiling widely – he was getting _married_. Remus John Lupin – werewolf, riddled with anxiety and PTSD, was getting fucking _married_ to the love of his life. He might not care about the specifics, but he would sit through a million meetings like this, if it meant marrying Sirius Black.

Huh, he might put that in his vows.

“What about, like, best men? Ringbearers and all that?” Sirius asked, looking ever so slightly melancholy. Reaching out, Remus held Sirius’ hand gently – it was hard knowing that James, Lily, and Regulus would never see this.

“Can we share a best man?” Remus asked.

“Don’t see why not,” Molly said, smiling.

“Great. You up for it, Harry?” Looking up from his cereal ( _not_ his fifth bowl, thank you very much), Harry started, wide-eyed.

“Really?”

“No, we want Snape,” Sirius deadpanned. “Of course we’re gonna ask you, Harry. Who else is there?”

“Well, I mean, yeah,” Harry said. “Of course I will.”

“Ringbearers?” Molly asked.

“Hermione? Ron?” Remus asked, to which they both nodded, smiling.

“Do we get bridesmaids?” Sirius asked, looking hopeful.

“Pads. Neither of us is a bride.”

“No shit, _really_?”

“Language!” Molly reprimanded.

“Sorry, Molly,” Sirius said, sheepishly. “Really, though. I want bridesmaids.”

“Okay, then,” Remus said. “What about Ginny and Tonks?”

“Oh _hell_ yes,” Tonks said, pumping a fist. “’M not wearing a dress, though.”

“Me either,” Ginny added. “But I’d be down with a suit.”

Remus thought he saw Harry’s eyes widen at her words, and hid his smile. “That’s settled then. We’ll talk about it more later. At some point we’ll have to –”

The doorbell rang harshly, cutting Remus off. Puzzled, Sirius went up to answer the door, and the others murmured about who it could be. Muffled voices were heard from upstairs, and a few minutes later, a slightly disgruntled Sirius led Dumbledore down the stairs into the kitchen, where the headmaster smiled genially at them all before gesturing to Harry to follow him out. Remus narrowed his eyes as they left – Dumbledore’s hand looked blackened and gnarled, and he held it at an odd angle to his body.

As they left, Molly announced her intention of giving the house a good scrubbing, and roped the rest of them into it, herding all except Remus and Sirius up to the dining room, whom she tasked with clearing up the numerous mugs littering the table.

Remus cocked his head at Sirius as he sat down heavily at the table. “What’s all that about?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Dunno. He insisted on speaking to Harry alone, damn nigh blackmailed me into it. Whatever it is, it’s probably about Voldemort.”

“Think it’s to do with Dumbledore’s grand plan?”

“Most likely, but he must know that whatever he tells Harry, the boy’ll tell Ron and Hermione. They won’t let him face anything alone.”

“You think he’ll tell us?”

“Bloody well hope so, or I’ll drag it out of Dumbledore myself,” Sirius said darkly.

“Don’t think that’s the best idea, Sirius,” Harry said, appearing at the top of the stairs, making his godfathers jump.

“And why not?” Sirius said pettishly.

“He can curse you under the table, for one, and I’m pretty sure he’s immortal at this point.”

Remus watched Sirius’ mouth open and close, looking for a retort, and he eventually grumbled something about “ _kicking the old bastard’s kneecaps out”_ and smiled. He flicked his wand to send the mugs to the sink, and gestured to Harry to sit down again. “What was that all about?”

Harry shifted in his seat, under both Remus and Sirius’ stares. “I, erm, I dunno if I’m allowed to talk about it…”

Expecting some sort of outburst, Remus turned to Sirius to shush him, but was surprised when Sirius said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Remus and Harry said.

Sirius shrugged, glancing at Remus. “We trust you. ‘S long as you're not in trouble, alright?”

Harry relaxed. “Alright. I’ll ask Dumbledore anyway, if I’m allowed to.”

“If he takes you off school grounds, call us, okay?” Remus said. “I know you trust him, but we can’t go through something like the Ministry again, Harry.”

“I know, Remus. And – I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled, staring at the floor.

“Hey, wait – no, no Harry,” Remus said hurriedly, “that’s not what I meant at all, fuck – sorry,” he added, as a reflex. “No, it’s just – we were terrified for you, love, and when Kreacher didn’t tell us where you were we thought something awful had happened. I’m not blaming you, Harry, I promise. We just want you to be safe.” Harry was staring at him, and Remus was beginning to panic, wondering if Harry was going to tell him he didn’t want him around, or if Sirius was going to tell him to get out or–

And then suddenly Harry was hugging him fiercely, and sniffling into his chest. Remus was rigid for half a second, before wrapping his arms around his godson, trying to hold back tears himself.

Harry mumbled something that he didn’t catch, and pulled away, smiling shakily. “Thanks, Remus.”

“Not a problem. Off with you, Molly wants help cleaning.” Harry made a face, and they laughingly waved him off up the stairs.

“You called him love,” Sirius said when Harry had gone.

“Did I? Fuck.”

“Don’t be so worried, Moony,” Sirius kissed him on the cheek, smiling at Remus’ panicked expression, “I think if he didn’t like that he wouldn’t have hugged you. You’ve become a dad, how’s that feel?”

“Absolutely terrifying.”

“Good, glad I'm not alone.”

“You’re never alone, dipshit,” Remus said fondly, pulling Sirius forward and resting his chin on the top of Sirius’ head, smiling when he felt his arms wrap around his waist. He’d never get tired of this, he thought. Just having Sirius close, being able to press gentle kisses to his forehead, waking up next to him in the morning.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too,” Sirius replied, muffled in Remus’ shirt. “More than anything.”

“Merlin, when did we turn into such saps?” Remus chuckled.

“Turn?” Sirius chuckled, pulling back just far enough to look Remus in the eye. “We used to make out on top of the Astronomy Tower just because you liked the stars.”

“ _You_ got a shifting tattoo of the moon.”

“You got me a watch with our constellations intertwined.”

 “You became an Animagus to look after me.” Remus punctuated the end of the sentence by lowering his head to kiss Sirius gently.

“Heh, you… You told my mother to fuck herself with a toilet brush.”

“Not exactly a declaration of love,” he said, laughing at the memory.

“That was… That was the moment I knew,” Sirius said quietly. “That I was in love with you.”

“You–”

“Merlin’s _balls_.” They both turned as Harry entered the room, wearing jeans that were too short for him and a smirk that rivalled James’. “Here I was thinking mum and dad were the sappiest out of you lot.”

“Nah, that was just James. Your mum was the sanest of all of us.”

“Great. So now I’ve got a new set of parents to make me wanna chunder,” Harry said, barging past their stunned faces and heading straight for the pantry.

“How do we have no food? There’s like ten of us, here,” he said, grabbing a whole box of cereal, before breezing back past them. “Go shopping, idiots,” he muttered.

“Did he just–” Remus said, looking something akin to shell-shocked, eyebrows pinched and mouth agape.

“ _Parents,”_ Sirius replied, smiling wider than the day he had first managed to achieve his animagus form. Now _that_ was a good day. All three of them had burst into their shared dormitory to find Remus sat quietly on his bed, reading some tattered book and nibbling on a bar of chocolate.

* * *

_"Moony!” Sirius hadn’t been able to keep the smile off his face all day – they’d finally done it, they’d become Animagi._

_“Huh?” Remus said, looking up from his book, raising an eyebrow at the excitement of all of his friends._

_“We did it!” Peter squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet._

_“Did what?” Remus asked, his face asking_ ‘what the fuck have you lot done now?’ _. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Sirius simply smirked and willed his magic to obey. In his mind, he pictured himself in dog form running around the grounds of Hogwarts, in the Shrieking Shack with Remus on a full moon. Concentrating hard, he pooled his magic into his chest, and the next thing he knew he had an entirely different view of the world. He was eye-level with the bed, and his weight was spread over four legs rather than two. Jumping up, he landed on the bed with little finesse, pushing himself onto Remus and pawing gently at his shoulders. Despite his inability to see colour, the smile on Remus’ face was undeniable, as he pulled Sirius closer to him, shouting exclamations of wonder and gratitude. When Remus let him go, Sirius turned back to human form and saw James standing proud as a stag, antlers tickling the ceiling, and Peter sat small on James’ head. Sirius caught Remus’ eye, ad saw him mouth with more sincerity than he had ever seen in his best friend’s face –_ ‘thank you’.

* * *

 

“Sirius Black. Dad. Never thought I’d see the day,” Remus said as he smiled, kissing Sirius’ forehead, before getting up to close the pantry door that Harry had left open.

“Soon-to-be Lupin.” Remus laughed at that, about to make some kind of _Black family tradition_ comment, when he saw Sirius’ expression.

“Wait you’re – you’re serious?”

“Why, yes, I am _Sirius_.” Remus shook his head, shooting his fiancé a rather exasperated look. “I mean it,” he said, more softly this time. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a huge fan of my family. I’d rather take your name.”

“Well then, Mr _Soon-to-be_ Lupin.” Remus smirked, fisting a hand in Sirius’ shirt and kissing him deeply, “Fancy a shag?”

Sirius scoffed because _Moony it’s the middle of the day – we have guests_ , but he certainly wasn’t complaining twenty minutes later, nestled comfortably on the pillows, with Remus’ head between his legs.

“ _Fuck_ , Remus.” Sirius propped himself up on his elbows as Remus pulled back, smirking.

“Enjoying yourself, _Mr Lupin_?” Leaning forward, Remus pressed kisses up Sirius’ stomach until he reached his lips, kissing him gently as he ground his hips down.

* * *

 

Personally, Harry thought he might deserve a better start to his sixteenth birthday, considering he was the bloody boy who lived and all that. Perhaps a lie in and a good cup of tea. Instead, he was awoken at the arsecrack of dawn by a stinging flick to the nose and a mop of bushy hair; the only saving grace was that Ron seemed to be in the same boat as him.

“Happy birthday!” Hermione sounded far more cheerful than the situation deserved, in Harry’s opinion. Ripping open the blinds, she dumped an outfit on his bed, and smirked when Ginny delivered a well-aimed punch to the centre of Ron’s stomach, forcing him up into a sitting position.

“Merlin’s _balls_ ,” Ron clutched at his stomach, wheezing, and Harry thought that the rather amusing pinched expression on his face could be worth waking up early for.

Once Ginny and Hermione had shepherded the boys downstairs, Harry didn’t hesitate to flick the kettle on and collapse into one of the kitchen chairs. He would blame it on how tired he was that it took him close to a minute to realise that the table was full with everyone currently residing at Grimmauld Place.

“What the – ugh, shit,” Harry’s exclamation was punctuated with the _ding_ of the kettle, and ignored Remus’ disapproving look in favour of making himself a good cup of coffee with far too much sugar.

“It’s _my_ birthday,” Harry wondered aloud, “how come I’m the one making coffee?”

“If you woke up a little,” Ginny sounded more amused than anything else, “you’d notice there’s a cup right in front of you. Idiot.”

Harry replied only by grunting and taking a good gulp of the hot drink before even sitting back down. “Please, no one talk until this is empty.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and ruffled his hair, making Harry mumble indignantly into his coffee. “Aw, just like your mum in the mornings. Had to stop her killing James for getting up for Quidditch at stupid o’clock.”

“Padfoot, all you did was bet on the murder weapon she’d use.”

“Shh, don’t tarnish my good name, Remus.”

“Reckon Mum was onto something,” Harry grumbled, “might keep a Bludger bat by my bed for this kind of situation.”

“You won’t be saying that with the day we have planned, kid,” Sirius said, grinning.

Harry looked at his godfather suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “What have you done?”

* * *

 

“How did I not know this was here?” Harry said, staring around the ballroom in awe.

Sirius shrugged, secretly delighted at his excitement. “Hasn’t been used since my dear brother’s initiation ceremony, I don’t think. Cleans up well, though, right?”

He was correct. He, Remus, and Molly had spent half the night setting everything up. Three small Quidditch hoops were set up either end of the massive ballroom, the old chandeliers had been unceremoniously unscrewed and thrown into cupboards, and the ground had been transfigured from hard, scuffed parquet flooring, to springy grass that filled the otherwise stark room with a fresh scent. Sirius had dragged his old Quidditch set down from the attic – it was a miracle his mother hadn’t thrown it out – and rather enthusiastically tested the condition of all the balls. If one of the windows happened to look suspiciously brand new, as if it had been hastily fixed with a _Reparo_ charm, well, no-one needed to know; the look on Harry’s face made it all worth it to Sirius.

The Blacks, even with all their elegance and aloof pureblood need to have only the best, turned out to be hoarders of the highest degree – all of their old brooms were tucked away in the attic, which meant that everyone (even the slightly less willing participants) was able to play.

Remus gingerly held the old Cleansweep at arm’s length, mirroring both Mr Weasley and Hermione. “Do we _really_ have to play? I don’t mind commentating.”

Sirius shot him a look that he hadn’t seen for decades; it was the _shut-up-James-is-excited-about-Quidditch-and-you-will-not-be-a-spoilsport_ look, and it would have made him smile, if he didn’t know that said look meant he would be bodily lifted onto a broom if it came to it. Remus sighed, and straddled the broom, shooting a dirty look at Sirius. His fiancé only smirked back, and kicked off the ground, just behind Harry and Ron. Remus and Hermione exchanged resigned looks, and made their own wobbly ascent.

Harry was in his element, and Remus was experiencing possibly the worst bout of déja-vu since meeting Harry for the first time on the train. He was so much like James; hair tousled, eyes bright as he divided everyone up into teams; all of it was a stark reminder of how things used to be when he spent his summers with the Potters, and how carefree they all were aged sixteen. Harry had never experienced that, he realised. Harry had spent his summers and his birthdays locked in a cupboard for the most minor offences, rather than spending them surrounded by family and friends and people who loved him. It frightened Remus a little at how angry he could become just by thinking of those things.

“Remus? Remus!” Harry was waving a hand in front of his face, grin still wide. “You alright in there?”

“Oh, sorry.” He shook his head, banishing those thoughts from his brain. “Mind wandered a tad.”

“If you don’t want to play, you don’t _have_ to.” Harry was looking at him amusedly, probably noting how hard he was gripping the Cleansweep’s handle.

“No, no, it’s fine. What am I playing?”

Harry’s grin grew even wider, and a hint of mischief crept onto his face. “Beater. You’re on my team, opposite Sirius.”

Remus groaned. “You’re _kidding._ He played for Gryffindor!”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. “But you’re more aggressive under pressure. Plus, it’s not as if the Bludgers are _that_ hard, they’re just training ones.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Remus replied, determinedly not looking at the too-new window.

The Quidditch game that ensued was interesting, to say the least. Sirius, Ron, Harry, Tonks, Ginny, and Charlie were flying about the pitch with an ease that the rest of the players could never hope to achieve. Despite Remus’ frankly dismal Beater skills, his team appeared to be in the lead, thanks to Ginny and Charlie’s unending Quaffle possession. The fact that Remus’ team was winning seemed to play on Sirius’ competitive tendencies with such strength that Remus found himself surprised that only one further window had been smashed. It wasn’t until half an hour into the game (at which point Remus was really beginning to detest his smoking habit because he was far more out of breath than anyone except Arthur) that Remus was allowed an insight into how good a player Harry really was.

The ballroom of Grimmauld Place was certainly a smaller pitch than Harry was used to, but it didn’t stop him from making a sharp dive as soon as a flash of gold caught his eye; Remus wasn’t really sure how the fuck he managed that with the state of his eyesight. Within milliseconds, Tonks was speeding after Harry, with strength, but less finesse in her turns. Harry was, without a doubt, one of the best players Remus had ever seen – better than James at any rate, who had been a disciplined player, but had never quite perfected the sharp moves and speed needed for a Seeker. Moments later, Harry was descending onto the pitch clutching the small golden ball to the cheers of his team (Remus’ the loudest of all), and the not-too-bothered groans of the other team, while Sirius shook his head, grinning proudly at his godson. Remus was just glad to have both feet on the ground again.

“Good game, love,” he said as he descended, Sirius watching Remus’ shaky landing.

“It’s his birthday! I was going easy on him!” Sirius defended, the comment losing its sting as Remus not-so-gently smacked him with the broom, and he ended up on the floor, tongue out at Remus.

Harry scoffed, offering a hand to help him up, “As if. We kicked your _arse_.”

“That we did,” Remus said and smirked, meeting Harry in a high five that had his palm stinging.

“Right then, boys,” Arthur interrupted, laughing slightly as Sirius dusted himself off, “time for cake.”

Before he’d even finished the sentence, everyone under the age of thirty was sprinting for the kitchen, closely followed by Molly Weasley. If it wasn’t for Remus and his stifled limp, Sirius would be running along with them, but he was an _adult_ – cake could wait.

“Alright there, old man?”

“Less of the old, thank you very much,” Remus said, but the groan he let out when his hip jarred contradicted him, “I’m thirty fucking six.”

“Exactly – old.”

“You’re literally older than me!”

“Not in spirit, my dear Moony,” Sirius quipped, gesturing to his outfit _du jour_ , which hadn’t much changed since he was sixteen – weathered leather boots, t-shirts, and jeans that Remus never failed to appreciate. Remus, on the other hand, tended to prefer well-fitting (albeit a little faded) corduroys, and shirts that screamed professor. Not that Sirius minded – the hot professor thing was definitely something he could get on board with.

“Oh, shut up and give me a bloody hand, will you?”

 

 


	5. Summer and Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big big apologies bc I posted the chapters in the wrong order so im gonna have to delete and repost. im updating this in the evening of 31st may (british time) so anything you read after that will be in the right order.  
> sorry!

“This is purely for his protection!” Dumbledore said, not quite yelling, but in a voice that certainly conveyed an air of authority. “He needs to learn it.”

“We’re not disputing that,” Remus said, willing his voice to remain calm.

“What we’re concerned about is your choice of teacher,” Sirius added, not making that much of an effort to keep the contempt out of his voice.

“This isn’t time for childish feuds!”

“I would hardly call it childish,” Remus replied, his voice cold and calm enough that Sirius knew he was fully angry. “This man has bullied our godson throughout his five years of education. And I doubt we need reminding that he was a _Death Eater_. I wouldn’t trust him to tie my laces, let alone muck around inside Harry’s end.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, no doubt to put up further argument, but Sirius cut in before he had the chance.

“No. Snape is not teaching Harry Occlumency. That’s the end of it.”

“Fine,” Dumbledore sighed, exasperated, “who do you suggest does teach him?”

“We’re both proficient at the skill,” Sirius said coldly. “I worry that we might be too close to him to teach him, though.”

“Well,” came a voice from the hallway, “lucky you’ve got me then.”

All three men turned to see Tonks leaning against the doorjamb, eyes bright as her hair (which was currently a quite striking shade of teal). She was spinning her wand between her fingers, conveying a sense of confidence that Remus only _wished_ he had had when he was in his twenties.

“I was top in my class at the Auror Academy,” she said, fully entering the room.

“Impressive,” Remus said. “And you’d be happy to teach him?”

“Anything to defeat old Voldy.” That statement brought a range of expressions from her audience – Remus looked amused, Sirius proud, and Dumbledore startled, and perhaps faintly impressed.

“I suppose it’s settled, then,” Dumbledore said.

“Right,” Tonks said, rubbing her hands together. “Teaching and learning Occlumency requires a certain degree of trust, so we are gonna start with some trust exercises.”

“Okay?” Harry replied, hoping he didn’t look as out of his depth as he felt. He watched as Tonks moved into place behind him, nearly tripping over an armchair, then proceeded to tell him to fall backwards. Which he did – however unwillingly. Despite some semblance of doubt, when Harry fell, surprisingly strong arms caught him and he tried to cover up his yelp with a cough.

“Trust me now?” she said with a smirk, to which Harry nodded in response, still feeling confused as to what was about to happen.

And, apparently, he had every right to feel that way. Because what happened next was the weirdest feeling he had ever felt – stranger than being possessed by Voldemort, and more unfamiliar than taking Polyjuice potion. All of a sudden, Harry felt as though his thoughts weren’t his own anymore; there was a prodding sensation in his mind that made him want to run from the room. Then, as quickly as it came, the feeling was gone, leaving Harry feeling disorientated and empty.

“So,” Tonks smirked, “Chris Alvarez, huh?”

Harry blushed to the roots of his hair, and chuckled nervously.

“Okay, so that was me using Legilimency. Occlumency is the defence against it. It’s really hard to learn, but the best advice I can give you is to imagine a wall at the front of your mind. Put all of your thoughts behind it. So when I try and get in, all I get is a bunch of brick.”

“Just… Imagine a wall?”

“Yup. Okay, ready?” Harry barely had a chance to nod before that feeling was back. In his head, he tried to imagine a wall; it filled up the front of his mind, and he was so focused on it that he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Alright. Better.” Tonks praised. “It was harder for me to get in that time. Still saw some unfortunate daydreams of a certain Weasley brother but-”

“Yeah, let’s,” Harry cleared his throat, already fed up with how easy it was for her to see his deepest thoughts. “Let’s try again, yeah?”

When further attempts were lacking any form of progress (despite Tonks’ insistence that he was doing remarkably well for his first time), Tonks suggested that they tried switching roles.

“I know you’ve never tried Legilimency before, but you should be able to at least perform the skill to some degree. Basically, imagine a door at the front of my mind. You’re trying to open that door. The first time, I’m not going to put up any defence. Then, we’ll try again, and hopefully you’ll be able to tell the difference.”

Harry nodded, somewhat nervous at the prospect of being allowed into someone else’s _thoughts_. It was so much more than just viewing the memories in a Pensieve; it was intimacy on a level that Harry had never even believed possible. He raised his wand.

“Legilimens!”

Immediately, Harry felt travel-sick. He knew he was still, yet he seemed to be rushing through Tonks’ memories at an alarming rate; he saw her seventh birthday when she had morphed her face to match a pig’s and it had gotten stuck, when she was sixteen and came out to her parents, when she had graduated from the Auror’s Academy. It was even more disorientating then side-along apparition. He pulled back, lowering his wand, and physically fell backwards with the effort of it.

“Not as easy as it looks, huh?” Tonks said. “Ready for the next round?” Harry nodded, and this time the experience was far less nauseating. When he tried the spell, it was as though the door to her mind just wouldn’t budge, and in the end, he gave up trying to open it.

“Okay, so – that’s what you gotta do to keep old Voldy out. Reckon you’ve got the balls?”

Harry grinned. “I haven’t shat myself facing him yet, so here’s hoping.”

“Atta boy.”

They practiced for a while longer, swapping roles often, and by the end of it, Harry felt more confident in Occlumency than he’d ever felt with Snape, and he told Tonks as much; her hair went bright red to match her cheeks, flushed with pride. They took a break after that, and Harry eventually worked up the courage to ask about Auror training, and Tonks regaled him for ages with “all my various fuck-ups” during her time at the academy. He learned about the duel training – “awesome, Kingsley Shacklebolt _himself_ duelled me” – how Aurors disguised themselves – “fucking breeze for me, two seconds of thinking and I looked like Fudge” – and how close all the trainees became – “I had to piss in front of all of them, in a fucking _open field_ ”. Being an Auror was starting to become ever more appealing to Harry, and when he asked Tonks, she laughed.

“I think if they didn’t let you in, they’d have to have a damned good reason. Besides, you could always play the Saviour card that I know you hate playing.”

Harry sighed, and sat back against the cushions they’d dragged onto the floor. “True. Not something I like doing, though. Makes me feel like a prick.”

“Think you’re about as far from a prick as you can get, kid.”

“Thanks, Tonks.”

They sat for a minute in silence, when Harry noticed Tonks was staring at the tapestry. “You’re not on there.”

She scoffed. “Half-blood _and_ a freak? Nah, I’d never make it onto their weird wall of inbreds.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Y’know, no one who lives here is on there anymore.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “What’re you saying?”

A smile slowly spread on Tonks’ face. “Just that it might be time for a little redecorating.”

“Tonks, believe me, I have _tried_.” Sirius reiterated, leaning back against the wall of the large room. “My ancestors may be arsewipes, but they know some damn good sticking charms.”

Remus scoffed from the corner, where he was sat on the floor next to Harry, sharing a bowl of popcorn. The entirety of the household was stuffed into the lounge, watching eagerly as Tonks and Charlie raised their wands.

“That might be true, Fido,” Sirius scowled at Tonks’ nickname for him, “but have they ever had a trained Auror go at it?”

“Don’t forget the _dragon trainer,_ ” Charlie added. They’d called him in for this, and at the mention of destroying something, he’d Apparated straight onto the front doorstep of Grimmauld Place.

“And the werewolf.” Remus added, standing up, and _not_ groaning at the effort of it because he was _not old_ , damnit, drawing his wand from his sleeve. When Sirius gave him an odd look, he just shrugged.

“It’s a wolf thing. If there’s a lot of wizards in a room I can sort of… draw more energy into my spells. It’s weird,” he explained.

“Good enough for me,” Tonks said, turning back towards the tapestry. “Ready, boys?”

The three of them raised their wands. The room was eerily silent, filled with the hum of powerful, emotive magic (and the sound of Harry crunching away on popcorn as he watched). In a surprisingly short amount of time, blue flames began to flicker at the bottom of the tapestry, and within minutes, they engulfed the whole thing, shedding grey-black ash. When nothing was left but a slightly blackened wall, the whole room cheered and Harry chucked his remaining popcorn at the remnants, whooping louder than anyone else.

“What’s gonna go up there now?” he asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe a nude portrait of me, just to rub it in my dear mum’s face.”

“Sirius, _no._ ”

“It’s legally my house, Moony, you’re all just living in it.”

* * *

 

_“Remus? Remus, please…”_

_“Don’t touch me, Sirius. Don’t – don’t.”_

_“I’m sorry–”_

“ _Are you?” Remus looked contemptuous, utterly devoid of any emotion except anger. “Are you really, Sirius? What made you think that anything else was going to happen except this?” Sirius looked stricken, so he continued. “What am I to you, Sirius? A game? Do you care about me at all?”_

_“Of course I do, how could you even think–”_

_“I don’t know, Sirius, maybe because I nearly_ killed _Snape! Maybe because blood would have been on my hands, and I would’ve been expelled, and it would be all on your stupid,_ stupid _fucking head. Ever think about that?”_

_“No, I didn’t.” That, at least, made Remus fall silent, instead fixing Sirius with the coldest stare Sirius had ever seen. Sirius took a breath, very nearly letting tears fall as he struggled to keep control. “I didn’t think. I didn’t think about anyone except myself, and I thought it would be – funny, to scare Snape – I know, I know,” he said, as Remus snorted derisively, “it was so stupid. I realised as soon as James ran out. I'm sorry, Remus,” he finished simply._

_“That’s not enough, and you know it.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Good. Maybe you’ll realise how selfish you are.” Remus left the dorm, leaving Sirius alone on his bed._

“Sirius? Padfoot, hey, hey, c’mon. I’m here, it’s okay.” Remus softly stroked the side of Sirius’ face, as he shuddered awake, looking up at Remus with wide, swimming eyes. “Hey,” he said gently.

“Hi – hi, Moons.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” Remus asked, reaching across to flick on the bedside lamp.

“Not right now.”

“Okay.” Remus held out his arm, and Sirius burrowed his face in his chest, hiding himself away the best way he knew how.

“Love you,” Sirius said after a while.

“Love you too, Pads,” Remus said, sleepily. Remus, it seemed, fell back asleep almost straight away, after tightening his arms and muttering small comforts to Sirius. The latter found it far harder to fall asleep. His mind was whirring, thoughts stuck on that time in sixth year and how it felt to know that the person he loved most in this world couldn’t even stand to look at him. He felt his chest tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut – it was done with now, Remus had forgiven him, it was okay, it was _okay_.

“Pads?” Remus murmured, apparently awake again. “I can literally feel you panicking. You don’t have to tell me what’s up, but do you wanna go up on the balcony?”

Sirius shook his head in response, just pulling Remus closer and trying his best to calm himself. Remus, knowing what to do in these situations by now, pulled Sirius up to a sitting position, He kissed his forehead, then each of his cheeks, and made him look into his eyes.

“Look at me. _Look_ at me, Pads,” Remus said, his quiet voice holding equal amounts of authority and comfort. “It’s alright. Whatever it is, it’s in the past. You’re safe, you’re okay, you’ve got me. Okay?”

Sirius nodded, his breath finally evening out. When he fell asleep later on, he didn’t dream again, and his head was resting on his fiancé’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated :)


	6. End of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again sorry im the biggest idiot and skipped a chapter so heres the wolfy chapter (again)

Towards the end of the summer, an unforeseen silhouette appeared at the door in the shape of Professor Dumbledore. Harry, Ron, and the rest of the children were supposed to be asleep, and hence out of the way, but Fred and George’s Extendable Ears made it possible for them to snoop in on the conversation.

“Wait – you kept these in your _socks_? I’m not putting that anywhere near me!” Ron exclaimed in disgust, recoiling from Fred’s extended hand.

“Oh, get over it, Ronald.” Hermione said, pushing past him and taking one of the contraptions from the twins. Rather reluctantly, Harry, Ginny, and eventually, Ron, followed suite.

 

“–recognise that I’m asking a lot, but–” Dumbledore said, but was quickly interrupted by a very cross Sirius.

“A lot? You’re asking him to risk his _life–”_

“Pads, it’s nothing I haven’t done before,” Remus said, in an attempt to placate him, far calmer than the atmosphere seemed to demand.

“That’s not the point!” Sirius’ voice was rising with every word; he seemed close to yelling, before a hand on his arm encouraged him to be a little less irate. “You’re asking too much, Dumbledore.”

“Frankly,” added Molly, sounding rather weary, “I am inclined to agree with Sirius.”

She was met with a chorus of _hear hear’s_ from the rest of the table, Bill’s voice booming above the rest; having recently arrived from Egypt, he’d faced things far more threatening than his old headmaster. Even Arthur, usually so reserved, seemed enthusiastic to have his voice heard.

“Of course I am not campaigning against the safety of Mr Lupin–”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Sirius muttered, and was met with a stern look from his fiancé.

“This is vital work,” Dumbledore ploughed on. “And there is no one else suited for the job.”

“He’s right.” Remus seemed to be addressing the group, but his gaze was solely fixed on Sirius. “We need intel from the wolf packs, and they won’t accept someone who’s, well, not a wolf.”

“You know better than anyone how dangerous it is,” Sirius said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.

“Which is why I’m not letting anyone else do it,” retorted Remus. _Ever the self-sacrificing git,_ Sirius thought. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay here for full moons – just go there enough to gain their trust again.”

“On behalf of the Order, I can hardly express my gratitude that–”

“Oh, shove your gratitude,” Tonks piped up from the corner. Everyone turned to her, and she shrugged. “What? It’s not like he’s asking him to pass on a message – those packs are fucking dangerous. I’ve seen it.”

“Finally. Someone’s talking sense,” Sirius murmured, feeling rather conflicted. Of course, _of course_ , he didn’t want Remus risking his life for the sake of information. But that was his heart talking. His head told him that this was war, and to have the packs on side would be a huge advantage. He tuned the rest of the meeting out as he pondered, but it was over surprisingly quickly; he hadn’t quite heard the conclusion, but judging by the haggard expressions around the room, Dumbledore had, once again, got his way. As soon as everyone had made their ways to their respective rooms, Sirius dragged Remus up to the balcony for a quick fag before they headed off to bed.

“I’d tell you off for that,” Remus said, looking more tired than Sirius had seen him ever. “But I could really do with one myself.”

Sirius chuckled, lighting the cigarette with a flick of his wand before taking a long drag, and passing it on to Remus.

“Sirius, I–”

“You should go,” Sirius interrupted, much to the surprise of both of them. “I don’t like it, but you’re right. No-one else can do this.”

“I know it’s shit.”

“I have conditions, though,” Sirius said, turning to face Remus, eyes serious. Remus nodded at him to continue. “You spend full moons here – it’s too dangerous otherwise.”

“I was expecting that one.”

“You were expecting conditions?” asked Sirius, genuinely curious.

“Of course I was. Dramatic git,” Remus said fondly, leaning forward to kiss Sirius gently before stubbing the cigarette out on the cold stones.

“And yet, you want to marry me.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve been too sappy recently. Gimme the rest of your conditions.”

“Okay,” Sirius replied, leaning back on Remus and thinking hard. “No more than a week a month. You come back _right away_ if it gets really dangerous.”

“You act like I have no common sense.”

“I have watched you pour coffee into the toaster.” Sirius said, entirely deadpan, causing Remus to shake with laughter – head thrown back with a sound that Sirius didn’t hear nearly enough of these days.

“One more thing,” Sirius said, once Remus had calmed down.

“Yeah, Pads?”

“Come home. Every time. You gotta pinky promise me that one.”

Remus didn’t answer with words, rather surged forward and kissed him, taking Sirius somewhat by surprise.

Growing up, Sirius hadn’t quite believed in love – at least for those older than around twenty. His parents’ relationship had been a loveless one for as long as Sirius could remember, and any friends or family who visited the rather dim household appeared the same. Frankly, Sirius didn’t think he’d be alive at thirty-seven, let alone in a happy relationship. Despite the war and the pain and uncertainty that his life seemed to be perpetually full of, Remus was back in his life now, and he could hardly believe his luck.

“I promise, Pads.”

“ _Pinky_ promise.”

 

Not that Sirius was ever one to say _I told you so_ , but he was fucking close to Apparating to wherever the fuck Dumbledore liked to hide out these days and yell just that in his smug bloody face. A week – a fucking _week_ – was all it had taken for things to take a sharp turn south. Remus was three days late now, and the slow setting of the sun was beginning to spark panic in the heart of Grimmauld Place.

“Sirius, you’re going to wear a hole in the bloody carpet if you keep that up,” Molly said, looking worried as Sirius paced the floor of the living room, chewing on a lock of hair that had escaped his bun, which was secured with his wand. The room was full of Order members and their children, all looking similarly frazzled, but no one more so that Sirius, whose expression bore the fact that he had not slept in four days. Harry didn’t look much better.

“Why aren’t we doing anything?” Harry said, standing abruptly. “Why are we just sat here worrying? He needs help.”

Hermione stood with him, holding his hand in some semblance of comfort. Molly sighed, and looked worriedly at him.

“It’s not safe, dear–”

“Of course it’s not bloody safe!” Hermione interjected, surprising everyone, including herself, it seemed, as she took a second to gather herself. “We don’t know where he is or if he’s injured. The full moon is less than five hours away and we’re doing nothing!”

“Right,” Tonks said, standing in a rare display of leadership. “Hermione, you’re right. He’s got a phone, right?” She directed the question at Harry, who nodded silently, pulling his own clunky mobile from his pocket.

“Good,” Bill chimed in, “we can track him using that, while he's still human.”

“Okay.” Sirius finally stopped pacing, finally having a purpose to drive him. “Okay, Hermione, you know how to do that, yeah?”

Hermione nodded, pulling her own phone from her back pocket, and heading over to the computer that was stored away in a corner, right at the top of the house, as to avoid the magical interference.

After Hermione left, the room seemed to descend into a form of determined not-quite-panic. When Sirius asked for volunteers, every single person in the room raised their hand, although some more enthusiastically than others. In the end, it was decided that Tonks and Bill would accompany Sirius; every else deemed either too young or not qualified enough (it seemed as though Ginny was biting her tongue to refrain from pointing out that Sirius wasn’t exactly _qualified_ either).

In the time it took for Hermione to find out where Remus was, a plan was formulated. Sirius and Tonks would utilise their Animagi forms, in case Remus was already ‘wolfing out’, as Tonks eloquently put it. The only one to remain in human form, Bill, would Apparate all three of them to the nearest point, then keep his distance, and be ready to Apparate all four of them back to Grimmauld Place if needed.

The sun was low in the sky by the time Hermione returned, and the lack of light was taking Sirius’ relative calm with it.

“Where is he?” he asked, arms shaking with the effort to keep his voice level.

“I’ve got the coordinates and the nearest landmark here.” She handed him a bit of paper, which Sirius scanned quickly before handing it to Tonks and Bill. As it turned out, Remus was only just outside of London, in an area that Sirius knew to be almost entirely hills and woodland – thank Merlin.

“Thank you,” he said, wishing he could sound more grateful.

“Coming, Sirius?” Bill asked, from where he was stood by the door with Tonks.

Sirius took one last look at the room, eyes meeting Harry’s. He patted the front pocket of his trousers to check the mirror was there, and saw his godson do the same.

Ten minutes later and they were heading off into the dusk, Sirius trying his absolute hardest not to yell at his companions to _hurry the fuck up_. Seemingly sensing his unease, Tonks placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding once in an encouraging manner before all three of them apparated towards the given coordinates. When they arrived, Sirius’ heart sank; the place was barren and reeked of dark magic and wet fur – at least he knew they were in the right place.

By the time they’d found the remote site where the wolves had set up camp, it was already dark, and the moon was already crawling higher into the sky, its light no longer comforting, but a sign of disaster. They decided to split up, Sirius and Tonks in animal form taking the higher, less-accessible paths to further up the hill, and Bill at the foot, scoping out the surrounding area. Sirius crept up the track, keeping as much to the shadows as he could, and dodging behind rocks at any slight noise. He had just come to a plateau when he heard a loud scuffle and froze, ears perking up. There was a quieter, high-pitched whine, and a wolf stumbled out from behind a rock. It was limping, and as Sirius looked closer, he recoiled in horror.

The wolf’s foreleg was slashed to pieces, bone showing through in some places, and it could barely put it on the ground without whimpering. One of its pupils was blown wide, the other eye darting around wildly, and a slash down its side seeped blood.

It wasn’t Remus, and that was all Sirius could think, even as the wolf eyed him up, stock-still. Sirius tensed, ready to fight, but the wolf simply lay down in front of him, baring its throat, as if begging for an end. Sirius growled quietly, and backed off, sniffing for any other scents and trying not to gag at the stench of the wolf in front of him. He was about to try and communicate with it when he heard an all-too-human scream, followed by an all-too-familiar howl.

In any other situations, the howl would be a comfort, a homing beacon, but without Padfoot or Prongs there, Moony was far more dangerous and less restrained than anyone had ever known him. Sirius turned tail and bounded down the hillside, and a black and white streak told him that Tonks had heard Remus’ howl too. They sprinted down the slope, paying no mind to any paths, trusting that they wouldn’t fall.

Tonks was the first to reach the bottom, and Sirius silently thanked her choice of transformation; another wolf might have had enough strength to force Remus into submission.

Moony himself was still, head moving between Padfoot and this new, unfamiliar wolf. Padfoot was closer, and he felt himself calming, moving closer to him, but the new wolf growled and started forward, and he felt the fear and anger rise back up, as he snarled back. He slowly approached, not breaking eye contact with Moony, and stopped a little ways before him. The two of them stared for a moment. Everything else was still, as if the world was holding its breath.

Moony lay down in front of Padfoot, baring his throat. Padfoot let out a soft sigh and nosed at his neck, and barked softly. He turned and was about to bark at the other wolf, when he stopped. The other wolf let out a yelp, and ran over to something out of Moony’s sight.

The moon slid behind a cloud, and Remus felt himself drift away.

“Merlin, don’t you ever do that again,” was the first thing Remus heard as he woke up, eyes blinking slowly and throat raw. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but once he did he recognised that he was in his room at Grimmauld Place, but rather than in the bed next to him, Sirius was hunched in an uncomfortable looking chair adjacent to it. His heart broke slightly when he noticed Sirius’ eyes – bloodshot and worried, dark bags under each of them.

“Was hardly gone a week,” Remus coughed as he spoke, his voice far hoarser than he was expecting it to be, then feeling the air _whoosh_ from his chest as Sirius practically threw himself at Remus.

“Bastard,” he muttered, pulling away slightly and pressing feather-light kisses to Remus’ lips.  Everything was fine, for that moment. Remus let himself sink into the mattress, enjoying being kissed and taken care of.

Then he remembered the full moon, and all the warmth in the room evaporated.

“What–” he swallowed, his vocal cords scratchy, “what happened?”

Sirius drew away a little, face clouding over. “Wasn’t your fault, Remus.”

“What happened, Sirius?”

His fiancé took a breath, resigning himself to what he was about to say. “Bill’s in St Mungo’s.”

“ _What_?” He felt his head spiralling, limbs no longer attached to his body. His breaths came quick and short, and he barely registered Sirius’ hands on his shoulders.

“Moons, _Remus_ , c’mon, love, listen to me,” he was saying. “He’s alright, he just needs time to recover. He’s _fine_ , Remus, now please breathe, you’re freaking me out.”

Remus sucked in a breath, and forced his eyes to focus on Sirius, who was looking more scared than when Remus first woke up. He breathed, and Sirius breathed with him, until Remus felt his heart steady again.

“What did I do?” Sirius’s face twisted, and Remus sighed. “Sirius, please.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you actually meant to hurt him.” At Remus’ look, he continued. “We got to where the wolves were, and Bill was meant to stay at the foot of the hill, to stay safe. I think you’d already, uh, got loose, by then, and I think you surprised each other. We found him right after we found you.”

“Is – is he–”

Sirius shook his head, smiling slightly. “No.”

Remus sank back against the bed, a rush of relief like no other going through him. _He’s okay, he’s not a monster, you didn’t ruin him, it’s okay._ “Thank Merlin.”

“He does like his steak very rare now, though.”

“Lucky that Fleur’s French, then.” Sirius snorted, slapping his leg lightly.

“Bad wolf. Bad joke.”

“It’s how I cope,” Remus said. “Does – does he want to see me?” he asked tentatively.

“Of course, you daft fuck. He’s worried out of his mind that you’re going to throw yourself off the roof over this. Which you’re _not_ going to do, because he’s _fine_ ,” Sirius said, sternly.

“You sound like me.”

“Well, one of us has to be sensible here, and since you were catatonic five minutes ago, it’s going to be me, so there.”

“Mmph, Sirius ‘Drama Queen’ Black being sensible, what will they come up with next?”

“Hopefully a werewolf that lets me _sleep_ for five minutes without scaring me to death.”

Of course, they had to face the world eventually. Bill didn’t take too long to recover, since Remus hadn’t actually bitten him, and was soon talking animatedly with the St Mungo’s team about how ‘badass’ his scars made him look. He hugged Remus fiercely when he came to visit, telling him that _under no circumstances_ was he to blame himself for anything, and Fleur, who hadn’t left Bill’s bedside since Floo’ing from France, was inclined to agree. She, in her distinguished, if wobbly, English, expressed how much she did not give a _shit_ about how Bill looked, and surprised everyone when she revealed that she had proposed to Bill as soon as she knew he would pull through. Mrs Weasley and Ginny were perhaps the most shocked, but warmed to the idea, and Fleur, before long.

It shocked Remus how… _normally_ everyone spoke to him. Fleur talked Sirius’ ear off about wedding preparations, and Bill looked at them both fondly, and good-naturedly joked with Remus that they should have a joint wedding, to save them all from two perfectionist brides. Remus surprised himself by being able to joke back, and he thought, _this is what it’s like to be a family._

He’d never really considered his family beyond Sirius and Harry, but he was starting to come to grips with the fact that the Weasleys had as good as adopted them all, and had no intentions of letting them go. He was surprisingly okay with that, even with his whole ‘lone-wolf’ (he pardoned the pun) attitude to life. He was still scared to screw it up, and even more scared of the uncertain future ahead of them, but he was beginning to realise that his family would stick with him through the best and worst of what was to come.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed comments and kudos appreciated :))


	7. Back To School: Beginning of Sixth Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remus gets back to what hes best at and theres a fuckton of reminiscing  
> not rly any warnings but smut at the end of the chapter  
> hope u guys enjoy

The last week before school was due to start again was surprisingly warm, and almost everyone residing at 12 Grimmauld Place felt more than a little stir crazy as they were forced to remain indoors, even when the sun was shining so brightly. It was particularly hard on Remus, who had only recently returned to the London house after having spent more time than usual with the wolves, even after the fiasco of his first visit. It had seemed like a good idea at the time – he would gain valuable information for the Order, and even though all was forgiven at home, he still felt guilt rush through him at any reminder of what had happened. But now the guilt of leaving Sirius and Harry felt almost as heavy as the shame of hurting Bill.

When he walked through the door, however, Remus was surprised to find that no-one was angry or dismissive; Tonks knocked over almost every single kitchen chair in her attempts to hug him, Mrs Weasley shrieked and fussed over his weight, nearly force-feeding him six helpings of treacle tart, and Harry and Sirius just seemed overjoyed to have him back. Sirius hadn’t let him out of his sight for an entire day when he had returned for good, and had shown his happiness in a multitude of ways that night after casting a silencing charm over the room. And as nice – and it truly was lovely – to be back, there was a part of him that missed the freedom that came with an abundance of fellow wolves. He loved being back with his family, but the whole staying inside thing was driving him a bit crazy.

So the shock that he felt on receiving an envelope bearing the Hogwarts stamp was overwhelmed by the utter relief that he was being given the chance to leave the godforsaken house.

_Mr R.J. Lupin,_

_Following the dismissal of our previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and our inability to find a well-qualified professor willing to take the role on a permanent basis, we would like to again offer you a temporary role filling this post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please reply as soon as is possible, and we apologise for the short notice._

_On a personal note, I do hope you accept the position – it is difficult to find professors of such skill and kindness._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

“Holy shit!” Remus gasped, eyes wide as he scanned the letter again.

“You’re an awful influence,” Harry smirked, “aren’t parents meant to teach you _not_ to swear?”

It was a sign of Remus’ immense shock that he didn’t physically respond to the use of the word _parents._ Instead, Remus just slid the paper across the table to Harry, who squinted through his glasses to read the letter, before his face broke out into a wide, beaming smile, and he crossed the room to hug Remus.

“Sirius!” he yelled, not noticing how Remus winced at the loud noise so close to his ear. When Sirius’ footsteps could not be heard, Harry yelled again – much to Remus’ chagrin, especially as Sirius appeared in front of them less than two seconds later. Sirius noticed Remus’ pained expression, and smiled half amusedly, half sympathetically.

“What’s going on here, then?” He still managed to sound so ridiculously posh sometimes, and Remus couldn’t help but remember the little eleven year old boy with black hair who always sat with his legs crossed, and didn’t know any swear words except for ‘bloody’. In comparison to Remus – care home kid with a limp and constant frown, who swore like a sailor even at age eleven; who knew he’d be a _teacher_ twenty five years later?

In the time Remus had been thinking, Sirius had read the letter and was smiling wide as he moved around the table to join his godson in hugging Remus. Now wasn’t the time for worrying. He wouldn’t worry about the backlash of an outed werewolf teaching kids, nor would he worry about leaving Sirius alone at Grimmauld Place, or the fact that Harry might well get tired of him if he had to have him as a teacher as well as a sort-of-parent. Right then, in the arms of the two people he loved the most in the world, Remus couldn’t help but smile and ignore the tears that had begun to fall onto the sleeve of Sirius’ jumper. It was going to be okay.

* * *

 

He didn’t feel the same way by the time Septemer 1st rolled around. The weather seemed to have decided to copy his mood, and thunder clouds rolled angrily over the dark sky, leaving the air anxious as rain waited to fall. Harry didn’t seem to share his unease as he ran towards the platform wall, closely followed by Hermione and a horde of Weasleys. Bones creaking, Remus followed suit, suddenly wishing he had had the foresight to pack some Murtlap essence, because the full moon was coming up and his muscles ached more than ever. On reaching the platform, Remus willed his anxiety down, breathing deeply as he surveyed the scene before him. Again, he wished he could go back to this morning and make some better choices, because in comparison to everyone else, he appeared massively overdressed. His neatest suit, despite fraying around the edges and not quite fitting his gangly limbs, stood out like a sore thumb against the casual jumpers and jeans of the students around him. It was then that it dawned on Remus that he was no longer a student. He wasn’t a too-tall sixteen year old in corduroy, chatting with James and Peter as he waited for Sirius to arrive, with long hair and in a leather jacket just to piss his mum off.

He shuddered. Even just the thought of Wormtail shot a spike of acid through his stomach and suddenly it was hard to stand. Head swimming, Remus braced himself against the column behind him, eternally grateful when Padfoot barked quietly and butted his head at Remus’ shins. Even in bloody dog form, Sirius always knew when something was up, the same as he had done for twenty-five years.

Merlin, he _was_ getting sappy in his old age.

He felt even older as he hugged Harry goodbye (and shook his head when Padfoot got up on his hind legs to do the same), then watched as the group of teenagers boarded the train, all bright colours and boisterous laughs. He’d do anything to make sure they didn’t have to go through what he did. Shaking his head, he turned to see Padfoot looking up at him, head tilted like he knew exactly what Remus was thinking and that he needed to bloody _stop_.

“You’re always bloody right,” Remus muttered, leaning down to scratch Padfoot between the ears, before boarding the train with a smile.

* * *

 

Sirius had thought that being forced to live in the house where his mother would hex the living daylights out of him on a weekly basis was bad enough; to be honest, he’d rather be living in that derelict piece of shit he had called a home for months following his escape from Azkaban, just as long as he didn’t have to bathe in piss-scented river water again. At least Grimmauld Place had running water.

One week into September, and Sirius found himself going slightly mental. Without the hustle and bustle of seven Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and Remus, he found the house far too quiet, even if Tonks did seem to knock something over every five minutes. She was only meant to be staying for the summer, but following the incident with Bill, she had become a far more active member of the Order, and spent her days off holed away in one of the many spare rooms at Grimmauld Place, researching. So it wasn’t like he didn’t have company – Tonks wasn’t exactly the quiet type, he just didn’t really know how to handle being without Remus again.

Without him there, it was harder to keep those nostalgic thoughts at bay. When they had first gotten together the summer before sixth year, they had spent half their time making sure that the door was fully locked, or that their _Muffliato_ charm was still working at full strength. When they had started telling people (or rather, when James walked in on the two of them), it was like a dam breaking. Suddenly they had the freedom to just be together, and Sirius took full advantage of that. When school had finished and they moved in together, they didn’t leave their house for a week, just revelling in the privacy finally granted to them – Sirius wasn’t sure he’d ever had that much sex in such a short time span at any other point in his life. And then, just like that, James and Lily were dead, and he was fully alone with only his thoughts for company for the first time since he was eleven. Those years in Azkaban had forced him to relive his worst memories over and over until his brain just shut off and he passed out. He had to relive his mother’s flying curses, Regulus’ death, the utter _hate_ in Remus’ eyes after the Snape incident. When he had escaped, he could barely remember how to talk; not that his vocal cords would let him.

It had been awkward with Remus at first – of course it had been, it had been twelve years and as far as Remus knew he was a traitor. But it had got so much better. They had fallen right back in love; they always came back to each other.

And now, Sirius was struggling to deal with the fact that he could only see Remus once a week – twice, if he was lucky. He didn’t get to fall asleep with him every night, or kiss him whenever he wanted. Worst of all – he was confined to this bloody house.

He was as surprised as Tonks when Remus’ head appeared in the fireplace of the living room at nearly midnight.

“Sirius!” He could see his smile even through the flames.

“Remus! Are you – is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah just – I missed you.” Sirius swore he could actually feel his heart skip a beat, and suddenly he felt like he was seventeen again, hearing Remus say _I love you_ for the first time.

“I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it.” Tonks left the room smiling, but Sirius barely noticed; his eyes were fixed on the smouldering embers in front of him.

“How are lessons? As bad as they were when we were in uniform?”

“Pfft – like you give a shit, you just want to know if I’ve been desolate without you,” Remus replied, and Sirius could _see_ Remus sinking back on his knees, smirking.

“Well, have you?”

“Oh yeah, wanking’s a hell of a lot better with you here.”

“You, _sir_ ,” Sirius said, laughing, “are an idiot.”

“And yet _someone_ thought it was a good idea for me to teach.”

“It’s your wit and charm, dear Moony. No one can resist it.”

“Pretty sure that might just be you,” Remus said, and winked at him. Sirius felt his insides warm, and he smiled softly at Remus.

“Hey, any chance of a conjugal visit anytime soon?” he asked after a moment, and Remus threw back his head laughing.

“We aren’t married yet, Black,” he said, shaking his head, but Sirius could see him looking at his planner as he spoke. “How about Friday? I probably won’t have anything to mark, and we could go to Hogsmeade, or just stay in…”

“Honestly, as long as there’s a shag in there, I’m happy.”

Remus laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re a menace, love.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Of bloody course.”

After their chat, Remus all but collapsed into bed – it was gone 3am and he had classes tomorrow. It was Thursday (or technically, Friday) which meant he just had a week until he could see Sirius again, and that was more than worth having to down three mugs of coffee in the Great Hall the next morning.

His first class that day was with the seventh years, thankfully, which meant that he could get away with setting an essay question and sitting in silence for an hour. If he was honest, they looked about as tired as he felt, so it really was an unproductive lesson all ‘round. In comparison, second lesson was _hell on Merlin’s fucking hat_. In an effort to win over the younger students within the first week, he had convinced Hagrid to give him custody of a dozen Cornish Pixies for an hour, and he had never regretted anything more in his entire fucking life. As if the squealing Pixies weren’t bad enough, the first years had decided to chase them around the room, yelling and laughing, and not listening to a _word_ Remus said. In the end, he had decided it best to just let things run their course, before casting a quick _immobulus_ five minutes before the end of the lesson.

Relief was finally granted afternoon lessons rolled around – he had a double lesson with the sixth years and they seemed to respect him more than most. Some Slytherins still gave him shit when they could, but the other houses – especially Gryffindor – tended to shut them down quickly.

“Right, you lot,” he raised his voice, hoping it would get them to actually take their seats and shut up. It worked – for the most part. “So, today, I thought we’d jump in at the deep end. This is probably hard to hear, but Defence is more important now than ever.”

He knew he had started with a tough subject, but rather than scoff, or stop listening, the class appeared to be listening intently, some looking rather frightened, others looking nothing but determined. Harry was in the latter group.

“We’re gonna get started today with some silent shield charms – and maybe work up to wandless for some of you. So, everyone partner up…”

Overall, the lesson was a success. Most of the students managed the silent spell and the _whoosh_ of a shield was heard repeatedly, often followed by a cheer. A couple of students, including Ron, even managed the spell without a wand, which Remus thought deserved a good bar of chocolate at the very least (and if he gave one to Harry too later on, well, maybe favouritism was allowed sometimes). What surprised Remus even more, was the complacency, almost _apathy_ , shown by Malfoy and his goons. Where two years earlier they filled his lessons with heckles and harsh whispers, now they seemed to just resign themselves to the task – and got on with it with surprising ease.

“Good first lesson, then?” Remus asked later on, when he was sat in his office with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and some magically heated cups of tea. It was moments like this when Remus could see nothing but James in his godson; robes rumpled and tie loose, Harry was perched on a desk, long legs resting awkwardly on a chair as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. And then he spoke, and Remus remembered that he was Lily’s son, as well.

“Would have been better if bloody Malfoy wasn’t hissing like an angry cat behind me the whole bloody time.”

“You’re just jealous he managed it before you.”

Remus pretended to ignore it when Harry flipped Hermione the bird, and smiled as the trio came to the conclusion that it was at least the best lesson of the day, which he was more than content to hear.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of long lessons, good food, and rushed conversations through the fireplace. For once, Remus thought himself lucky that he had a general look of exhaustion, otherwise the excessive yawing at breakfast every morning might have looked a little out of the ordinary. Madam Pomfrey did offer him a potion to help with his sleeping, which had led to an hour long conversation about how Remus had been since his graduation.

During his time at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey had always been the one to patch him up after a full moon, and he would be eternally grateful for the kindness that she had offered to him. Even now, she remembered exactly how he took his tea, and his favourite type of biscuit. Being back at school gave him huge waves of nostalgia that often hit when he was least expecting it. The sight of Peeves now made him nauseous, and he could hardly get through a conversation with Dumbledore without his hands shaking beyond belief. Apart from Madam Pomfrey, the only other teacher that he could truthfully say he actually enjoyed talking to was Minerva. At least she was a constant – unyielding, intelligent, and surprisingly maternal.

Despite these small salvations, Remus was happier than he had been in a fortnight when he glanced out of his office window to see Hagrid walking up to the castle, accompanied by a large black dog.  Quite suddenly, Remus wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. In the time that it took for Sirius to reach Remus’ room, Remus had made his bed, tidied his clothes away, and even organised the mess on his desk. Not that Sirius cared – as soon as he had switched back to human form, he didn’t even say hello before pulling Remus forward and kissing him hard.

“Mm – fuck, hello,” Remus rasped, kissing back with equal eagerness as Sirius tried to toe his shoes off and remove his jacket all without breaking contact – he didn’t quite manage it, and wound up falling backwards onto the bed with his jacket hanging off one arm.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Never disputed that, Moony,” Sirius replied, finally managing to get his jacket off and chucking it to the floor, “now c’mere.”

Having Sirius back in his bed was a stark reminder of what it used to be like when they shared a dorm room together all those years ago. Recently, it was obvious that those years had taken their toll, and their times together were usually tinged with a sort of desperation, as if time was an hourglass working against them. This time, however, was slow and playful, fragmented by giggles and inside jokes. Sirius, especially, couldn’t seem to keep the smile from his face, even as Remus gently worked him open.

“Get on with it, would you?” The laughter was clouded by the rasp in his voice, and Remus responded wordlessly by smirking and crooking his fingers upwards in a way that had Sirius groaning and fisting his hands in the sheets.

“Good?”

“ _Fuck_ , yeah just – hurry up,” Sirius cut off with a whimper as Remus pulled away for a second, muttering a spell that had them both ready in less than a second.

“Mm, ‘s not really what I meant,” Sirius gasped.

“Complaining?” Remus asked, genuine concern hidden behind a sarcastic tone, and Sirius barely had a chance to shake his head before Remus began pressing in slowly.

If he was honest, Remus hadn’t known he still had the stamina for this kind of thing. But, he thought, as he drifted off that night at way past 3am, comfy and sated with Sirius asleep on his chest, apparently it was still possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated :)))


	8. End of 1996

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally get some draco in this one yay
> 
> no chapter warnings so just enjoy :)

The only issue with having his sort-of-dad as his teacher, Harry thought, was that he couldn’t face the disappointment on Remus’ face if he didn’t hand something in on time. He was 90% sure that Remus was putting it on, but it had the same effect. After years of being looked after (in the loosest sense) by people who could not have given less of a shit about his schoolwork, Harry was quite suddenly confronted by the novel problem of having guardians that actually cared about him enough to be disappointed if he slacked off. Needless to say, he had been working his arse off throughout the entire term, so when Hermione interrupted him one November evening, it was a more than welcome distraction.  

“So, I’ve been thinking,” she sat down next to him, jumping into the conversation with absolutely zero preamble, as per usual. “Up until frog-face last year–” Harry snorted at the rather unsavoury nickname for their old Defence teacher, “caught us, D.A. actually worked pretty well, so I– well, I was thinking maybe–”

“Nope,” Harry cut in before she could finish, now fully looking up from his parchment, “not doing that again.”

“Why not?” Hermione asked, sounding genuinely surprised at his unwillingness. “I thought you started to enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I – I guess I did. But y’know, it’s sixth year, and I’ve got people that are actually gonna care if I fuck this up.”

“Harry bloody Potter caring about his studies. Never thought I’d see the day,” she smiled.

“I blame you.”

“Pfft,” she waved him off, “who else would you blame? Ronald ‘do my essay for me’ Weasley?”

“Oi!” came a slightly disgruntled voice from the entrance to the common room, “I leave for two seconds–”

“You say that like you didn’t ask me to write your Muggle Studies essay this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron replied, plonking himself down on the plush sofa. Harry didn’t miss the fact that he sat close enough for his knee to be touching Hermione’s, nor did he miss the blush that spread on her cheeks as he did so. “Did you ask him, yet?”

“Not doing it,” Harry replied before Hermione could get a word in, trying to focus his attention back on his essay.

“Apparently he cares about his grades now.” Hermione said, to which Harry flipped her off without moving his eyes from his work.

“And Quidditch. We’re at the top of the board right now, and I’m not about to lose to Slytherin this year. I don’t have time to do that and keep on top of school stuff.”

“Won’t it help your work though? Like, teaching people the shit you study.” Ron pointed out.

“That’s… actually a good point,” Hermione said, and Harry could have commented on how surprised she sounded if Ron hadn’t got there first. And to be fair, he had a point. Charms especially always made more sense to him after teaching others how to get the hang of it, and Defence was full of practical work that would be easy to teach.

 

Ron smirked, seeing his expression change. “I think we got him, ‘Mione.”

“I hate you guys so much,” Harry sniped, closing his book and rolling his eyes when his friends high-fived.  

“Alright, fine, after Christmas I’ll think about it.”

“Great! I vote we bully Seamus into sneaking us Firewhiskey,” Ron said, clapping his hands together. “I know him and Dean make a pretty good profit selling to the lower years. I mean,” he added quickly, noticing Hermione’s stern expression, “that’s just… what I’ve heard.”

“You would make a terrible criminal, Ronald.”

“Actually, I reckon he’d do pretty well,” Harry cut in. “Think about it,” he said to Hermione’s disbelieving look, “he’s the strategist, and he knows the layout of anywhere he’s been instantly. He’d just be shit at lying to the Aurors.”

“Hey, I can lie!”

“Sure, buddy.”

They continued to bicker back and forth about Ron’s hypothetical chances as a felon, when the clock chimed twelve on the wall, and they adjourned with the agreement that Ron would, in fact, be wonderful as a criminal, but would have to leave the talking to Harry.

* * *

 

Harry was wrong. The other problem with having his sort-of-dad teaching at Hogwarts, he decided, was knowing exactly what had happened the night before when he opened the door to Remus’ office-slash-sitting room, where his other sort-of-dad was lounging one Saturday afternoon in December, lazily charming little paper planes to fly around the room, hair way too messed up to follow an innocent night.

“Sirius, what – oh. Um, morning,” he said, as Sirius waggled his eyebrows before sitting up and pulling a shirt on from where it was chucked over a chair.

“Morning, sunshine! How’s school?”

“It was good, before I saw that,” Harry said, crossing to the kitchenette area of the small room and flicking the kettle on. “Thinking of starting the D.A up again.”

Sirius sat up, beaming. “Really? That’s brilliant! Remus!” he yelled through to the small back room, “Love, Harry’s here!”

Remus’ head poked through the doorway, covered in dust. “Hello, Harry. Everything alright?”

“He’s starting his Defence club up again!” Sirius said, making Remus grin too.

“That’s wonderful, Harry. Do come see me if you want any advice.”

“Thanks, Remus.”

“So,” Sirius said, with a shit-eating grin on his face, “how’s the love life?”

“No, no no no, no we’re not doing that–”

“Sirius,” Remus said warningly, from where he was sorting books out.

“Love, you’re the one that told me you had to change your seating plan because they wouldn’t stop staring at him.”

“Wait, what?” Harry felt as though someone had whacked him upside the head as he nearly dropped his mug of tea.

Remus looked sheepish, and backed a little further into the storeroom. “I – well, it was only once or twice.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Sirius said, grinning, “runs in the family.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me my parents were hot.”

“Your parents were so hot. Your mum had to fight off suitors, she was so pretty, and I had my first kiss with James – and you know I have an impeccable taste in men.”

“That makes two of us,” Remus called from the back room, making Sirius laugh.

“Wasn’t it during spin the bottle?” he asked, cackling more when Remus answered in the affirmative.

Harry had his head in his hands. “I don’t even know why I’m here right now.”

“It’s Christmas, love! Lighten up – your dad made out with all his friends.”

“Really, really didn’t need to know that,” Harry groaned, setting his tea down on the coffee table and plonking himself down next to Sirius. “Thought I was just here for some sodding lunch.”

“And you are,” Remus said, fully emerging from the back room, flicking his wand at the tiny oven. Three plates floated out, laden with plates full of potatoes, cauliflower cheese, and roast beef. “Bon appetit.”

“Wow, I thought you meant like – sandwiches,” Harry said, practically drooling as he sat at the small table, pulling the huge plate towards him. Meals at Hogwarts were delicious, but the size of the hall made it hard for a decent conversation to be had. This felt much more intimate – the three of them sat around a small mahogany table, laughing and joking over a good meal. Harry hadn’t felt so at home since leaving Grimmauld Place three months ago.

“So, Harry, we were thinking –” Remus started, before Sirius interrupted, looking at his fiancé with an expression that was an odd mix of exasperation and adoration.

“Merlin, do you have to make everything sound so bloody serious? What Remus was trying to say is that we were thinking of doing Christmas at the Burrow – all of us. Fancy it?”

“All of us?” Harry asked, grinning already

“Y’know, you, Hermione, the hoard of gingers,” Remus replied, a grin on his own face.

“Never thought I’d say this, but your cooking might actually be better than Hogwarts,” Harry said with his mouth full, to which Remus beamed. Sirius banked the image, thinking it might make a good Patronus thought. “So yeah, as long as you help Molly out with the cooking.”

“Great!” Remus said. “Now, eat up. Quidditch Captain has to eat well.”

* * *

 

The Room of Requirement was a place of mystery, used by people for a wide range of reasons. Harry, for one, used it when he just needed a minute alone; such a pleasure was difficult to come by when he had friends and family who consistently worried about him whilst residing in the same castle. It was a bit much sometimes. The door seemed more reluctant to open than it usually did, and once Harry had entered, he realised the reason – Draco Malfoy, of all people, was staring at him, eyes wide and red-rimmed; his fists were shaking too.

“Malfoy, what–”

“Move, Potter,” was Malfoy’s only response, as he pushed away from the strange cabinet he was stood beside and made a beeline for the door behind Harry. Against every rational thought, Harry stepped in front of him.

“Seriously, mate. You alright?”

“I am not your mate,” he spat, pushing Harry away, but no longer moving towards the door.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

Draco scoffed. “Since when have you given a fuck about my well-being?”

“Since I walked in on you having a panic attack.” At that, Draco’s eyes widened and his mouth moved to refute him. Harry spoke again before he could. “Yeah, don’t bother. I know what they look like.”

Draco didn’t reply, just turned around and held onto the side of a cabinet with a white-knuckle grip. His head was lowered and, in that moment, Harry noticed, he looked so small. Not the suspicious son of a Death Eater, just a boy. Harry felt moved to comfort him, and yet had absolutely no clue how to go about it.

“So,” he started, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “you okay?”

“The fuck does it look like?” Draco answered in a small voice. “You try being okay when Voldemort is setting up in your house.”

Holding back a retort about how _he wouldn’t be there in the first place if your dad wasn’t a racist prick_ , Harry gingerly placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. Surprisingly, Draco didn’t flinch or back away, or tell him to fuck off, just took a deep breath and lifted his hand to rub his eyes.

“I’ve got a spell for that, y’know,” Harry said, pulling his wand from his back pocket.

“Huh?” Draco replied, very much lacking his usual air of sarcastic eloquence.

“The redness. My family’s great but… yeah, I don’t wanna worry them.”

“Your family?” Draco asked, standing straighter and allowing Harry to perform the spell, before turning and inspecting its results in the mirror.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, careful not to give too much away, “Remus and Sirius. Tonks kinda lives with us too, I guess.”

“Are they… together?” Draco seemed flustered asking this, which surprised Harry to an extent. He tried his hardest not to fall prey to stereotypes, but to say he’d be shocked if Draco was queer would be a lie.

“Yeah,” Harry tried not to sound too defensive, “have been since they were like sixteen. They’re like, grossly in love.”

Draco’s only response was a noncommittal hum as he fixed his hair in the mirror. His expression fell back to that of his usual sneering nonchalance, and somehow Harry knew that the conversation was over.

“Wait, Malfoy,” Harry blurted. “What’s that? That cupboard thing?”

Whatever response he was expecting, what Draco did next certainly wasn’t it. His expression contorted into one of shock – panic, almost – and he snapped his fingers, causing the entire cabinet to disappear into thin air. Harry couldn’t even form words, his mouth gaping open as Draco stared at him.

“What cupboard?” Draco said, feigning confusion in a perfect impression of someone who was _absolutely fine, thank you very much_. Harry just shook his head, thinking it best to just leave it be – after all, what could be so important about a shabby-looking cabinet? Probably just contained things too unsavoury for the Slytherin dorm room.

“Anyway, as much as I appreciate concern from the Boy Who Lived,” he drawled, “I have better things to do.”

“What – got a date with your right hand?” Harry regretted the words almost as soon as they’d left his lips, but it was too late, and he felt himself blushing. Why the fuck wasn’t there a spell for this kind of thing?

“For your information,” Draco said, his hand on the doorknob, “I’m left handed.”

Before Harry could process what he had just heard, Draco was gone, leaving Harry feeling exasperated, flushed, and overall – confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos appreciated :)


	9. Christmastime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas time dudes!! this is a cute chapter but i Promise the plot will start moving forward soon and i'll stop writing self indulgent fluff/smut (well not as much anyways) but posting might slow down a little from now because everything else was pre written but now we'll be writing each chapter as it goes (but we also have more time so idk)
> 
> little bit of smut in this one so watch out

Christmas Eve arrived in a swirl of snowflakes, cups of tea, and a much appreciated break from revision and homework; Harry would be happy if it wasn’t for the disconcerting flutter that hit his gut every time Ginny so much as looked in his direction. It was new, and despite Harry thinking he should probably be used to change at this point, he really had no idea how to feel. It was made worse by the turbulence in his stomach caused by side-along Apparition.

  
“Alright, there? Looking a bit pale,” Remus asked, looking more amused than concerned. Harry just nodded, and tried his best to ignore the way Ginny ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to calm it down after arriving with Sirius. Despite the veritable swarm of pixies in his gut, Harry calmed immediately when the Burrow came into view; the tall chimneys and haphazard windows cried home in a way that neither Grimmauld Place nor Hogwarts had ever quite managed. That feeling intensified as they all entered the kitchen together to see Molly whipping up a bowl of something that looked like batter, while a scouring brush cleaned the plates in the sink. Upon seeing the group assembled in her front door, her concentration broke and the plates clattered down with a harsh crash.

“Harry!”

“Nice, Mum, just ignore your actual biological children,” Ron muttered, chucking his bag onto the table as Molly rushed forward to hug Harry tightly.

“Oi,” Harry replied, making a face at Ron over Molly’s shoulder, “there’s a reason I’m the favourite.”

“Just because you’re the Boy Who Lived doesn’t mean you get special treatment, young man. You’re still helping with the gnomes later,” Molly said, making sure to hug every person in the room.

* * *

Despite spending it with him four times consecutively, Harry was still unused to Ron’s method of waking him up on Christmas Day, with a heavy blow to the head courtesy of his pillow.

“Wake up! It’s Christmas!”

Harry groaned, and stuck his hand out from the cocoon of blankets to grope for his glasses, and squinted at the clock.

“It’s five in the bloody morning, Ron, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, but Fred and George are up, and I’m not losing to them at Quidditch this year. C’mon, go get Ginny –” Harry felt a swoop in his stomach at the name, “and meet us out there.”

Harry groaned, and finally sat up. Ron had left the room, muttering tactics under his breath. He looked in the mirror, and started to quietly panic at the state of himself. After scrubbing his face, despairing over a spot on his chin, trying to find a balance between BO and far too much deodorant, and searching the floor for a clean shirt, he made his way downstairs to Ginny’s room. More than once, he caught himself rehearsing what to say in his head, even though it should have been very simple.

He was in the middle of a pleasant daydream about one of the ways the conversation could go, when he stopped dead, right in front of Ginny’s door.

_She was dating Dean Thomas._

He felt shame curling in the pit of his stomach. How could he have forgotten? They had seemed to be fairly serious last time he’d pulled his head up from his revision. Harry ran his hand through his hair, and was about to turn away, Ron be damned, when the door suddenly opened and Ginny nearly walked into him.

“Oh, hi, Harry. Merry Christmas,” she said, grinning at him.

“Oh – hi, hey Ginny. Happy Christmas.” His mouth had suddenly become very dry.

Ginny looked theatrically around the small corridor. “There a reason you’re stood outside my door at five in the morning?”

His brain finally kicked in, and the words tumbled out. “Yeah, I wanted to – Ron wants – Quidditch,” he finished lamely, pointing down the stairs. “Ron wants you to come out.”

“Right.” Her face carried a suggestion of laughter, and Harry wanted to smack himself. “Give me a sec, gotta pee.”

“Right, yeah, ‘course. I’ll just – see you down there.” He bolted, cringing at himself.

When Ginny made it downstairs, clad in a giant Harpies jumper, the boys were already warming up, Fred seeing how many times he could Apparate behind Ron on his broom and scare him. So far, it was about six. She walked up as they were roaring with laughter at Ron, who had nearly fallen from his broom at the latest fright.

“Trying to wake the whole house?” she called.

“Ginny!” Ron shouted, finally getting his leg over his broom and flying down to greet her. “Great, finally. You can referee us, I’m sick of Fred and George beating us.”

Ginny looked positively affronted. “I’m sorry? You woke me up to referee?” She glared at Harry, who suddenly found his broom handle the most interesting thing in the world.

Ron looked uncomfortable, looking to the twins for help, who were just laughing at him. “Well, there’s four of us already, and…”

“So? I’ll play on Harry’s team –” That got his attention, and Harry looked up, trying to ignore his pulse rocketing up, “– and you can have Fred and George.” She was smirking, and Harry had the sudden urge to tell Ron to call off the game.

Never one to back down from a challenge, especially from his little sister, Ron nodded, face solemn. Ginny beckoned Harry down, and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Stay close to the goals, and don’t be afraid to play dirty,” she whispered, face close to his ear, and Harry nodded, clearing his throat and very quickly mounting his broom, grateful for the freezing air that masked his warming cheeks.

The game started, and Harry started to become forever thankful that he never had to play against Ginny. She was ruthless, weaving in between her brothers like a professional and hurling the Quaffle straight past Ron almost every time, turning to grin triumphantly at Harry. Harry himself didn’t have much to do; whilst he found he wasn’t completely inept as a Keeper, he was fairly certain that their lead was entirely down to Ginny. A favourite move they’d developed was him using all his arm strength to lob the Quaffle down nearly the whole length of their small pitch, for Ginny to then expertly shoot and score. He made a mental note to teach it to Ron later. Much later, he thought, looking at Ron’s murderous expression after Ginny made another goal.

They’d agreed it was first to 200, and after an embarrassing amount of time on their rivals’ part, Ginny scored the final goal and she and Harry whooped in victory. Ginny came streaking downfield to him and attacked him in a hug that he wholeheartedly returned.

They dismounted, Ron eventually taking the loss well, putting Ginny in a headlock and rubbing her head with his knuckles. “Guess there’s a reason you’re on the team,” he said, as Ginny squawked indignantly, scrabbling at Ron with her hands.

“Piss off, Ron.” She eventually managed to get out of it, glaring at them all, but with a small smile pulling at her mouth. “C’mon, Mum’ll have breakfast ready soon.”

* * *

Christmas Day was almost over and Remus hadn’t felt so at peace since the passing of at least four full moons. He had grown quite jaded at his life being governed entirely by the lunar calendar; waxing moons meant a fiery temper and a fuse so short he’d once yelled at a creaky hinge; full moons held cracking joints and gashed open skin; new scars and exhaustion were the product of waning moons. This month seemed to be an exception. The thought of entering the New Year in his wolf form still sent a shot of anger straight down his spine, but that was a week away and Remus had yet to blow up in the face of something insignificant. In fact, this Christmas Day had, so far, been the best that Remus could remember since leaving Hogwarts.

Christmases at Hogwarts had always been nothing short of a work of art, whether spent at the grand castle, or the slightly more modest abode that was the Potters’ mansion. Both meant Remus had been surrounded by the few people he was sure loved him unconditionally; both were full of memories of genuine familial adoration hidden under layers of boyish laughter and juvenile glee.

The last two Christmases had been some of the hardest of Remus’ life, if one took the liberty of ignoring Christmas 1981. Having Sirius back had been the miracle to end all miracles, and had nearly ignited Remus’ faith in something higher, but this would be the first Christmas where things were truly right again. Where Remus could make sarcastic comments without Sirius flinching, and Sirius could leave the room without Remus feeling that basal pang of fear that perhaps he wouldn’t return.  
  
"Alright, love?” came the intoxicating tone of tipsy Sirius from somewhere to his left.

“Yeah!” Harry added, slightly more twatted than Remus thought he probably should be, but not enough that Remus felt as though he should be admonishing him – he was young once, and all that nonsense. “Lighten up! ‘S Christmas!”

“I blame you. Bad influence,” Remus said, nodding to the tumbler of whiskey in his fiancé’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awful – don’t forget to punish me later,” Sirius added with a wink. Remus felt his cheeks flare and prayed to the powers that be for some kind of distraction that might return his blood flow back to his brain. The gods appeared to be listening, for at that moment, a beautiful amber owl appeared tapping at the window, bearing a letter with the official Ministry stamp on the front.

“Will someone stop that incessant noise?” Arthur whined from the table, looking as though he was already nursing a hangover, despite the night being far from over. Chuckling, Remus crossed the room and opened the window to allow the determined bird into the room. The italic handwriting on the front of the cream envelope indicated that the letter’s contents were for Sirius, but glancing over at the figure currently dancing on a chair, Remus deemed it best for him to open it.

It might have been the Firewhiskey, or perhaps the joy that came with a good Christmas, but Remus had to read the letter over three times before the news sunk in enough for him to react. The happiness that he felt warmed his entire body and he couldn’t help leaping up into the air with a cheer that silenced the room.

“The fuck?” Remus was too caught up to so much as tut at Harry’s swearing, and simply thrust the letter into Sirius’ hands.

“Sirius, it’s your – it came! Your pardon, it’s – you’re _free_.”

“Holy shit.” Sirius looked stunned, his whispered response lost to everyone but Remus as the room erupted into cheers.

* * *

Barely had the rest of the house retired to bed, when Sirius was kicking the spare bedroom door shut before pressing Remus back against it.

“I’m _free_ ,” he giggled against Remus’ lips, unable to keep his hands in one place as they kissed deeply.

“First time in fifteen years – how’s it feel?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Better than this?” Remus smirked, spinning them around so that Sirius was the one pressed against the door, gasping when Remus pressed a soft hand between his legs. His only response was to kiss Remus harder, bringing his hands up to fist them in his fiancé’s hair. As Remus began placing gentle kisses down just the right areas of his neck, Sirius let his head thud back against the door, bucking his hips forward when Remus began fumbling blindly with his belt buckle.

“There’s, mm, probably a spell for that.”

“No need,” Remus quipped back as he began stroking Sirius in full, “how do you want it?”

“Bring us – fuck – bring us along together?”

Remus complied with a rather frantic nod, muttering a charm that had them each slick in seconds, and as they kissed he was suddenly overcome with such tenderness for the man before him – the free man before him – that he was spilling over his hand in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

“Are you–”

“Not a word,” Remus growled good-naturedly, muscles still trembling as he focused on utilising all the tricks that got Sirius absolutely breathless.

“ _Gods_ , Remus – fuck, you, yeah there, ah-” Sirius babbled, eyes fluttering shut as he bucked his hips forward, hands grasping at Remus’ waist.

“Looks like I’m not the only one.”

“Oh, shut it.”

* * *

The news that Bellatrix Lestrange had escaped from her cell in Azkaban had spread throughout Britain like a disease; it seemed as though every witch and her aunt were talking about it. Everyone, that was, except for the mismatched family that was enjoying Christmas in a home called the Burrow. The sun had hardly greeted the morning when an immensely undernourished woman with hair as wild as the expression on her pale face silently passed through the wards at the edge of the Burrow. The only person awake in the house was Molly, who gasped when a wave of bitter magic prickled over her skin; her wand was in her hand before the sensation was even over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated (im a sleep deprived and insecure writer cheer me up w some comments (im joking u dnt have to (but itd be nice (thank you))) - e


	10. Bellatrix Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning for some violence and character injury
> 
> hi so we've been trying to actually develop the plot of this thing a little rather than just write pure self indulgent fluff yknow
> 
> also massive thanks to everyone who's been reading its so nice to get comments and kudos and know that ppl are enjoying this shit we like to write in out free time :))

Those who didn’t have the pleasure of knowing Molly Weasley personally were under the impression that she was little more than a slightly plump housewife and mother of seven who was never seen without her apron knotted behind her back. Those people would have been surprised to see Molly that morning, clad in her dressing gown as she waved her wand fiercely in an attempt to reinforce the wards that had been so easily invaded. Before long, seven redheads, four brunettes, and one hot pink head were in a similar position, filling the room with various coloured lights as spells ricocheted off the walls.

“I don’t think,” Remus grunted, “this is working. She’s already through the wards – all we’re doing is making sure no one else gets in.”

“So, what, are we fighting her now?” Ron asked, an attempt at bravado that barely hid the shake in his voice. The badly-disguised fear in his expression was shared by Ginny, Fred, and George; Sirius had to choke back a lump in his throat when he noticed that Harry’s own face was one of grim determination.

“Not you,” Sirius replied, his voice hoarse with effort, “Harry, Ron – in fact, everyone under the age of twenty, stay here. Keep up the wards.”

“What? No, we can –”

“Not negotiable,” Arthur said firmly, seconded by Charlie and Remus. The energy in the room lessened significantly as the adults lowered their wands, straightening their shirts in a strangely synchronised manner. No sooner had the children redoubled their efforts when a sharp knock cut through the tense, magically-charged air like a call to arms.

“Sirius, darling, is that you in there?” Came a disgustingly sweet voice through the door; Sirius’ stomach dropped to his feet and his heart felt like a frozen lump of lead. “I can smell _wolf_ , and you always were nauseatingly loyal to that _half-breed_.” The last word was hissed, and Sirius felt a surge of magic, horribly familiar even after sixteen years.

He started forward, wand raised, but Remus held out a strong arm, effectively holding him back with the authority that Sirius would never – could never – go against. Bellatrix knocked softly again, then, on receiving no answer, shrieked like no sane person ever could, and began pounding at the strong oak door. Immediately, all six adults raised their wands again, reinforcing the strength of the door to the extent that the pounding eventually faded. Her frustrated shrieks could still be heard.

“We can’t keep this up,” Charlie said, grunting with the effort of the wandwork. “We’ll have to face her.”

“We’ve got a good chance. Six against one,” Tonks added.

Arthur shook his head, “We don’t know that she’s alone.”

Remus opened his mouth and Sirius, knowing _exactly_ what he was about to suggest, exclaimed louder than necessary “No! _Absolutely_ not _.”_

“We don’t have a choice, Sirius.” Remus looked at Sirius steadily.

“Wanna fill the rest of us in, here? Not all of us have weird soulmate telepathy,” Tonks said, grinning in spite of the tension, doubling up her charms.

“’S not a well-known fact, but the Unforgivables don’t really have the same effect on wolves,” Remus explained, more calmly than the situation seemed to demand.

“In what sense?” Molly asked.

“Imperios are more like persuasion charms. Crucio is painful, but bearable. Worst a killing curse does is give me a blinding headache for a few days.”

“Holy shit,” Tonks whispered.

“So, what was all the _no, absolutely not!_ about, then?” Charlie asked, his voice taking on an awful imitation of Sirius’.

“Remus wants to use himself as a shield. Distract her so we can take her down while she’s focused on him.” Sirius’ eyes were watery but hard, still determined to stay true to his promise to never let anything hurt his Moony ever again.

“I can take three _Avadas_ before I’m out. It’s the best plan we’ve got.”

“Okay. We’ll try and flank her, just make sure you can evade her,” Arthur said, as the other adults agreed. “Kids, stay here, _but_ ,” he added when voices rose to protest, “don’t hesitate to defend yourselves.”

They all nodded grimly, tightening their grips on their wands. Sirius was still staring at Remus.

“Don’t you dare let her kill you, or I’ll never talk to you again.”

Remus grinned wryly. “The only Black I’d let touch me is right here.”

“Good.” Sirius sniffed, finally breaking the stare and turning to the others. “Ready?”

The adults straightened up, and the air crackled with magic. It smelled good; rich and smoky. As Padfoot, one of Sirius’ favourite things had been to smell the air when magic was being performed. Everyone had their own unique scent, and he was fairly sure he could pick out any individual’s in a room. Harry’s smelled of hazel wood; Tonks’, curiously, of cinnamon.

He breathed in deeply, and Remus’ magic filled his lungs. He smelled like smoke, like the forest, like coffee, like sweat and wolf and everything that Sirius could and would not live without. He touched Remus’ arm, and the air sizzled between them. It was enough. It was a promise.

“C’mon, then."

* * *

She was stood in the middle of the garden when they filed out, arms outstretched and her eyes closed, feeling the wind on her face. It was only when Sirius stepped out that she snapped to attention, wild eyes alert, like a panther spotting its prey.

 _Hyena,_ Sirius thought, _only worth the scraps._

“My _darling_ cousin!” Her voice was still the same; rougher, but still elegant and hypnotisingly rich. “Why didn’t you come to see your favourite relative? I didn’t think you were _scared_ of me,” she said, pouting.

Sirius felt himself relax, despite himself. He knew this game from childhood; he _knew how she liked to play_. “Well, I would have, but, you see, I was unceremoniously told I wasn’t a Black anymore. Shame, really; look how you turned out. I could’ve done so much better!”

Bellatrix simpered. “The Dark Lord was upset you wouldn’t join him, Sirius. He knows you could have been such an asset to us. You, and maybe even that stinking half-breed.” She paused, sniffing the air. “Where is the filthy thing, anyway? Run off with his tail between his legs?”

 _Don’t react, she wants this._ He could almost feel Remus pushing the thought into his head. “Nah, didn’t think you were worth his time, Bella. I mean, you might as well be one yourself. Hair’s not up to Black standards anymore,” he said, tutting. _Come on_ , Sirius thought, steeling himself against every nervous thought swirling around in his head, _play her game_.

She snarled. “How _dare_ you compare me to that _thing_!” She pulled a wand out of her tattered robes, firing a curse at Sirius, which Molly promptly deflected. “Get away, blood traitor! This is between me and my dearest cousin. Now,” she purred, aiming her wand at Sirius again, “are you going to come and play, darling?”

* * *

Remus didn’t consider himself a particularly violent person, but watching Sirius slowly walk towards Bellatrix made something almost uncontrollable boil in his chest, as if the wolf itself were trying to escape. Whilst the Black pissing contest was going on, he had circled around the others, ending up in a small group of bushes behind Bellatrix. He just had to wait for an appropriate moment to strike.

“What about ickle Harry?” The question made both Remus and Sirius freeze. “Is he here? You know, I could just back away now, if you handed the little boy over.”

“Never,” Sirius growled. “If you so much as _look_ at him –”

“What, darling? We both know I was always better at curses.”

“Would you like to test that?” Sirius had on a smile that Remus hadn’t seen in over a decade. It was downright terrifying, belonging back in the First War, where Sirius had faced down several of his blood relatives, all who arrived laughing at the black sheep of the family. All who never saw the end of the battle.

Remus couldn’t see her face, but Bellatrix must have moved, because Sirius fired off a curse, and in a split second, they were duelling. The others leapt into action, and so did he, firing a Stunning spell at Bellatrix, who turned and ducked, leaving the red light to hit a nearby tree.

“Half-breed! So glad you could join us,” she called, eyes glittering. “Are you still defiling our blood?” She was fast, dodging, cursing, laughing maniacally.

Remus hadn’t duelled in a while, but kept up just the same, matching Bellatrix curse for curse, as Sirius tried to find another opening. He was beautiful; powerful as his cousin, but infinitely more elegant. Where she fired curses with abandon, he seemed more calculating, defending rather than going straight for the attack. If he’d had time to reflect, Remus would have seen how different this Sirius was to the Sirius that would duel back at Hogwarts, and he would have seen how much Sirius had grown up.

When Sirius got hit with a Stinging Hex, Arthur filled his place. Charlie and Tonks managed to crowd Bellatrix into a corner of the garden, and Remus threw himself bodily in front of Arthur as green light came speeding towards him. He hit the ground with a solid _thud_ , and groaned. He’d underestimated the head pain he knew he’d receive, and he could barely see. The pain began as a sharply intense stab that overwhelmed any transformation he had ever experienced; within seconds it had transfigured into a dull and roaring ache which affected every sense. He could hear, though; could hear the shouts, the screeching laughs of Bellatrix, the sound of spells being fired again and again and again.

Then, silence.

“What the fuck?” Tonks.

“Where did she –” Charlie.

“Not my daughter, you bitch!” _Molly_. Molly uttered those words in a voice so starkly different from her usual maternal tone that every single person in the vicinity flinched.

Remus tried to sit up; failed. The cacophony restarted. Molly was stood in front of Ginny, who was cradling her arm, oozing blood. Her mother’s expression was one of unadulterated rage, as she met Bellatrix with every spell, driving her further backwards. Bellatrix herself was screaming with laughter, face now covered with cuts, courtesy of Sirius. The two women fought, green light flashing on both their faces. The soil cracked and crumbled as the air around them grew almost too hot to bear.

“What will your little girl do when you’re gone, Molly?” Bellatrix called. “What will your little boys do? Mummy and Daddy won’t be there to save the little blood-traitors. We have no place for them with us. I’m sure Greyback will take a liking to the little whore, he likes them young –”

“SHUT UP!” Molly screamed, and Bellatrix gave one more euphoric, wild laugh, as Molly’s last curse hit her straight in the chest. She stopped still, eyes and mouth going wide, and fell, heavy as lead.

There was silence. No one moved as they all let out a collective breath.

Molly took a deep breath, straightening her robes. “Well,” she said, turning to them all, her eyes like flints, “I think perhaps it’s time for breakfast.”

* * *

While the last few moments had passed by in a speeding blur, the next few days were some of the longest he had experienced since the First War. Unable to move, or utter more than a few words, Remus was vaguely aware that he was being transported – yet where to exactly, he had no idea. He was aware of Harry holding his hand at odd intervals, telling him stories that sounded like he was speaking underwater. He felt Sirius kiss the top of his head with the sort of tenderness that _begged_ for Remus to be okay; Remus wished he had the energy to tell him that he would be alright.

It wasn’t until the world finally stopped roaring in his ears that Remus could focus long enough to notice where he was. The four poster bed and ugly wallpaper told him that he was in his room at Grimmauld Place. Barely had he had this revelation than the door was creaking open and the glorious smell of a full English with all the trimmings came wafting into the room.

“Please tell me there’s sausages on that plate,” Remus murmured into the pillow, sensing by smell more than anything else that it was Sirius baring the wondrous plate of food.

“Mmhm,” Sirius confirmed, “eggs too – fried.”

“You’re a fucking angel.” Remus sat up, wincing at the light slipping through the drawn curtains and holding his head. His stomach swirled, but as soon as Sirius held the first forkful to his lips, he wolfed down the food as if there was no tomorrow.

“And you’re the worst. Haven’t slept for four days.”

“Four days? Shit, Pads, I’m sorry,” Remus said, guilt settling deep in his system, stopping his eating just for a second to meet Sirius’ gaze.

“Nah, don’t apologise, love,” Sirius waved him off, setting the now empty plate on the bedside table and shuffling to sit beside Remus, pulling him into a gentle hug. “You did what you had to do. Don’t mind me, you know how much of a worrier I am.”

“And I love you all the more for it,” Remus murmured, relaxing fully into the deepness of Sirius’ embrace. As he closed his eyes, ready to let sleep take full hold of him, he became aware of the quiet sniffles that Sirius was making. Wordlessly, Remus shuffled backwards, ignoring the full body ache that permeated his joints as he switched their positions, pulling Sirius against his chest and running a hand along his back until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated thanks guys


	11. New Year's - the Beginning of 1977

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a difficult new years for the fam but they get through it because we needed some happy
> 
> sorry for the long wait between updates we've been busier than expected
> 
> hope you guys enjoy!

Everyone had been concerned that New Year’s 1996 would end up being somewhat soured by the events of the antecedent week. No one had been more worried than Molly Weasley; she had spent days hiding the consistent hand tremor that accompanied the taking of a life, even a life as twisted and perverse as the one held by Bellatrix. Remus was only just up and about again, shuffling around the halls of Grimmauld Place, in a rather shit attempt to hide the almost brutal pain that had been plaguing his hip ever since the last full moon, and had been exacerbated by the whole Nearly Dying thing. Sirius, along with Harry, saw directly through the ruse, and had been slipping Murtlap essence into his morning cup of tea.

Needless to say, when New Year’s Eve rolled around, it would have taken an insane amount of cheerfulness and high-spiritedness for 1997 to arrive smoothly. Luckily for everyone, a certain set of twins were immensely skilled when it came to raising the mood of the determinedly upset. This, combined with Charlie and Tonks’ penchant for mischief and rather impressive dexterity with charms, was enough to transform Grimmauld Place into a place resembling the festive spirits of the rest of the world.

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of us staying up here all night?” Remus muttered, clad in a festive sweater and soft grey trackies as he propped himself up against the head of the bed. His words lacked venom, softened by a smirk as he watched Sirius dress in front of the mirrored wardrobe door. Despite moving as far as he could from the bastards he had grown up with, Sirius had never quite lost the habit of dressing far more suavely than the occasion demanded. Tonight, he had abandoned proper dress robes, and was looking the epitome of pulchritudinous aristocrat, with his well-fitting suit trousers and a navy shirt which managed to bring out the blue in his eyes while hugging his shoulders perfectly. Remus was beginning to rethink his earlier reservations – he could never pass up the opportunity to spend a night with Sirius in all his finery.

“As much as I’d love that, Rem,” Sirius replied, rolling his sleeves up as he crawled up onto the bed to straddle Remus’ lap. He didn’t miss the way a pink blush rose high in Remus’ cheeks at the movement. “I doubt Molly’s about to miss a chance to feed you ridiculous amounts of food.”

Remus groaned, kissing Sirius once, deeply, before pushing his fiancé from his lap and heading for the wardrobe. He had mostly recovered from taking a Killing curse straight to the chest, yet changing from his comfortable trackies to his well-worn corduroys still made him grunt at the full-body ache.

“You alright, Moony?”

“Be better if your mental cousin hadn’t tried to kill me a few days ago,” Remus said, wincing as he realised he had missed light-hearted by a fucking mile, immediately apologising as Sirius’ eyes lost their warmth.

“Shit, Pads, love, I-”

“Stop apologising, idiot. Like any of that was your fault,” Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair, calming a little as Remus came to sit across from him, an open palm on his knee. “’S just, I don’t know – I should be over this by now. I never got on with her, not even when he were kids. Just hurts when the people shooting at you-”

“Should have been the ones on your side,” Remus finished for him, heart aching as he watched Sirius’ brow furrow in an attempt to hold back his emotion.

“She could have killed you,” Sirius whispered, eyes desperate as he made eye contact with Remus, gripping his hand with the strength of someone who was barely holding himself together. “Killed _Harry._ It’s not changed, from last time. Everyone I love, they end up in harm’s way; because of me.”

“Pads, listen to me,” Remus shuffled forward, ignoring the pain in his thighs so that he could sling his arms behind Sirius’ neck, touching their foreheads together. “You are everything. Okay? You’ve been it for me since we were fifteen. I’d stand by you even if the entire _world_ was firing at me. I can handle a couple of your mental cousins.”

The last sentence drew a watery laugh from Sirius, and Remus pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Plus, in a few months, you’ll be a Lupin.”

“That I will.” Sirius drew in a breath through his teeth, before exhaling and resting his head on Remus’ woollen shoulder. “You’re it for me too, y’know.”

It was in that position that they rested for a moment, simply breathing in one another, as they thanked the cold clockwork of the stars and the nations which had allowed them to be together for this. It wasn’t until the delicious scent of Molly’s cooking wafted underneath the door caused Remus’ stomach to grumble loudly that they broke apart. Sirius stood first.

“C’mon, love,” Sirius said, opening the door for Remus before tenderly wrapping an arm around his waist in order to help him down the stairs. “Time to welcome in the new year.”

-

The energy in the room was the lightest it had been in days; Ron and Ginny were immersed in an intense game of wizard chess – the rules of which Remus could not determine for the life of him, but it seemed to involve rather a lot of swearing and wandless charm work. Molly had, as always, produced a spread of food that rivalled even the Christmas dinners at Hogwarts, and Arthur was deep in conversation with Harry about the exact mechanics of a Walkman. The corner of the room was temporarily home to four ginger heads, which had Remus wondering if Bill or Percy might have arrived in the past hour. A flash of pink proved him wrong, and he elected to keep silent for the curiosity of what havoc a triplet of Weasleys could cause.

“Remus!” Molly bustled through from the kitchen, wielding a great tray of casserole like a makeshift shield. The smell of it made Remus’ stomach growl with hunger, and he heard Sirius huff out a laugh as he helped him into a chair. “Remus, dear, should you be up?”

“Couldn’t miss this feast, could I now?” Remus was already allowing Molly to scoop exorbitant amounts of casserole, baked potatoes, and roasted vegetables onto his plate, digging in before she had even finished.

“Well, we could have brought some up for you-”

“Nonsense,” Sirius replied, “can’t have him sleeping through the new year.”

“I’d argue but I’m pretty sure I’ve done that before.”

“Remus!” Harry said, coming over and grinning widely. “You’re awake!”

“By some miracle, yes,” Remus replied, tousling Harry’s hair, making him yelp and jump away, mock-scowling. “Haven’t been getting into trouble whilst I’ve been bedridden, have you?”

For some reason, Harry didn’t immediately laugh it off; he shot a glance to where Ron and Ginny were still playing, and cleared his throat. “No, of course not.” He laughed uncomfortably, and Remus considered questioning him. But his body felt heavy, and Sirius was leaning his head on his shoulder, and he decided against it. Harry would tell them if he needed to.

Sirius pressed a Firewhiskey into his hands, and he smiled at Harry. “Alright, I believe you. Don’t get too pissed, mind – let’s hope you haven’t inherited the Potter Drunk Personality.”

Harry laughed, properly this time. “Okay, Remus,” he said, swiping a cup of mead from the food table as he walked off.

Sirius had a soft smile on his face as Remus turned to face him. “Hey, you.”

“Hi. Glad you dragged me down here.”

Sirius leaned up to kiss his nose. “You’re the life of the party, Moony.”

“Ha, ha.”

Someone turned up the old record player, and Ron let out a whoop.

“Harry! It’s that Muggle bloke you love!”

_As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent, you asked for the latest party…._

Sirius’ eyes lit up. “I didn’t know people still liked Bowie.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. “They don’t. It’s my record player.”

“Wait, so that means –”

“Mmmhm. Christmas 1974. Your present to me.”

“You kept it?”

“It’s Bowie, darling,” Remus said, kissing Sirius’ now very pink cheek. Sirius tugged him forward and kissed him properly, hands on the side of Remus’ face.

“You’re gonna hear all about my feelings on that later,” he whispered in the space between their mouths.

“And I look forward to it.”

They nodded along to the rest of the song, Remus not quite feeling up to dancing as outrageously as Harry and Ron were doing, jumping on the chairs – to Molly’s chagrin – and spinning each other wildly round the room. It was so strikingly similar to Christmas 1974, when James insisted they play the record, since “ _Remus has the best taste here – yes, Pete, more than your_ vintage _Three Twisted Wizards.”_ , and had whirled Sirius around the room, with all the vigour a thirteen year old could have. Remus had actually been sat in a rather similar position that he was now, except this time he had his fiancé leaning sleepily on his shoulder, nursing a glass of rather potent Dragon Barrel Brandy.

He smiled at what James would say if he could see them now, and raised the tumbler of Firewhiskey to his lips.

The rest of the evening was spent mostly gorging themselves on the veritable feast Molly had prepared, and playing a mishmash of Wizarding and Muggle party games; Sirius proved to be remarkably good at charades, and Remus put it down to his natural tendency towards the dramatics.

Midnight crept up on them all, and before Remus even knew it, the radio had been turned on, and someone was announcing that it was one minute to twelve. He turned to Sirius, who was holding another tumbler of Firewhiskey.

“Here’s to a third New Year’s together, eh?”

Remus took it, and smiled softly at him. “To many more.”

“Hopefully,” Sirius said, wrapping an arm around Remus’ neck, drawing him in, “next year I’ll be celebrating with my husband.”

“He’ll be a lucky man.”

Sirius grinned, as the teenagers began to yell out the countdown.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven –”

“Nah, I think I’m luckier.”

“Two! One – Happy New Year!”

They kissed, and Remus poured every wish he had into the noise, the elation of a new year, and he _hoped_. For everything to turn out well, for them to not lose any more loved ones, for the future.

They kissed, and so missed Harry rather sloppily snogging Ron, and seemingly forgetting how to speak English when Ginny kissed him on the cheek. The mood spread about the room as Molly and Arthur shared a brief but sweet kiss, and Tonks and Charlie high fived in solidarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated bois


End file.
